An Empire of Dragons
by Soleneus
Summary: A wise Dragon once said that all dragons have the desire to destroy, to dominate, and the Dragonborn is no different. And this Dragonborn has his eyes set on more than just 'The Hero of Skyrim.' He has the desire, the will, the power, and the potential to reach even greater heights...Like Tiber Septim before him. Now, he only has to get there...and find companions to join him.
1. Well Hello There!

He watched as the Dragonborn, Slayer of Alduin and Miraak, Champion of the Stormcloaks and Skyrim, Harbinger of the Companions and Hero to the People, laid down his weapons for a life of farming and trading with his wife, Ysolda.

"Oh My Me, I'm bored!" He shouted, hurling a goblet of wine at the view in front of Him, causing it to vanish with a silent ripple. "How many times must I see this?! How much more mediocrity shall I suffer?! Why must I be cursed to watch the same thing, over and over again?!" He weeped in agonized sobs, before sitting up in His throne and snapping His fingers. "Oh wait, I'm a God! I can do whatever I want! I'll summon a new Hero and toss him in! The chaos he'll cause, not to mention the self-inflicted suffering, will be far more entertaining than this slop!"

He summoned forth a pool of iridescent green water, many different faces passing over the surface, settling on a grinning blond with whiskered cheeks. "What about a ninja? Hmm…no, too dumb and forgiving." The picture swirled, changing into a grinning man with ridiculously spiky black hair. "No, too strong and yet, useless all the same." The image changed once more, becoming a masked, red-and-black clad mercenary. "No, too self-aware." It changed again, becoming an average brunette with a red gauntlet. "No, too much fornification, not enough plotting."

He growled and slapped the surface of the pool, "These are all Heroic Heroes! I require someone more pragmatic, ambitious, and dirty!" The water resettling on the image of a man with stoic face but with the gleam of madness behind his blue eyes. "And who's this? Saul Dewitt, some base human who knows the lands of Skyrim? Perfect!" Declaring His satisfaction, He reached into the pool and grabbed the human by the collar of his shirt, hauling him up through the pond like one does an unruly, bedraggled cat.

The normal human blinked incredulously, looking around at the black void surrounding a comfortable recliner, then at the tall deity with ever-shifting features. "So…what's up?" He asked cautiously. "If this is a demon summoning, my sister's in the next room over. Unless there's a bunch of succubi about to come in, then I'm definitely your guy."

"This is no lower demon summoning ritual!" He cried, throwing His arms out wide. "I am…Randolious, the Observant Beyond! And I have brought you here…to caper for my amusement in a land you know of, Skyrim. I am also _incredibly_ bored."

"I can tell," Saul replied, rubbing his hands together as he squinted up at the deity. "Being as bored as you are, perhaps you would allow me a few boons? As long as they are in the name of entertaining you."

Randolious paused in consideration, a pleased smirk on His ever-changing face. "Aware of your purpose but a minute, and already proving yourself perfect. I think, perhaps, a touch of those 'gaming' interfaces mixed with reality will do just fine," He nodded in decision. "Some things will adhere to the game systems, such as gaining experience, health, stamina and magicka, reaching new heights, gaining new skills, trading, carrying your equipment and crafting will be game-like, everything else shall be as in life."

"Thank you very much," The human bowed shortly, humming in thought. "Can I die permanently?"

"Indeed, but if it's humiliating and sufficiently entertaining, I'll send you back to the hour before your death," Randolious, Observant Beyond replied immediately. "Now, anymore questions before I send you forth on this adventure?!"

"Can I fast travel?" Saul shrugged. "For expediency. Watching me walk or ride a horse everywhere wouldn't be enjoyable, I don't think."

The deity bobbed His head. "A valid point," He mumbled, "Why not? But only in the form of Mark and Recall, a form of Conjuration magic that can be upgraded with accrued skill. Any other boons you desire? Keep them reasonable, my patience is not _INFINITE!_ "

Saul wriggled a finger inside of his ear. "Please stop shouting, I'm right here. Also…" His eyes gleamed with madness in the low light of the void. "There are these things that could be done to the game that would change the world, modifications. Can I ask for those?"

Randolious opened His mouth to deny, then paused in thought. Vision of further chaos flashed in his mind, and He grinned widely. "Indeed," He said, getting a joyous gasp from the human, only to cut it off quickly. "But! For every modification that increases your ability without difficulty, the world and its dangers will grow to match you!" He declared with an authoritative gesture at the sky, his finger snapping like the retort of a crumbling mountain. "Although, ones that simply expand upon the history and logical inclusions are free. In fact, already done."

The human sat on the ground, rubbing his scruffy chin in thought. "Alright, well, the first mod I want…skimpy female everything," He stated, grinning as his eyes gleamed. "Clothes, armor, everything."

"Ha!" The Observing One barked out a laugh. "Granted, with no penalties! I'll even make it so they do not realize how exposed they are! They won't even be affected by the weather! Next!"

"The one that makes all the ladies appropriately muscular and beautiful, without turning them into pouting models," Saul said next, "And where the female companions are protected despite the look of the armor."

"Granted. Remember, logical inclusions have already taken effect," Randy stated, waving a hand impatiently.

"Cheat room?" Saul asked.

"No."

"Naruto overhaul?"

"Only if you want every enemy to be Madara."

"So no. How about all the ones that make the towns and cities actually big and stuff?" He asked next, snapping his fingers in remembrance. "Oh, and and all the texture and graphics updates."

Randolios blinked incredulously, then gave Saul a look that let him know just what the Deity thought of his intelligence. "I know you are not this stupid. I'm sending you to the _actual land of Skyrim_. Have you ever _seen_ Skyrim in real life?! It is _MAJESTIC_!"

Saul winced, shrugging carefully. "Alright, I just assumed it would…Ahem. How about Ordinator perks, Apocalypse Magic, Free Enchanting, Royal Armories, Unique Uniques, Awesome Artifacts, Scoped Bows, Weapons of the Third Era, that one where you can recycle weapons and armor, the one that gives you three times as much gold, oh! And a mod that makes Serana marriable!" He pointed at the deity with a determined scowl.

"…That's under the realism part," Randolious pointed out, summarily ignoring the mutterings of 'My vampire-waifu' and snapped his fingers. "Now, hurry up! I'm becoming bored! You wouldn't like me when I'm _bored..._ "

"The one where I can smack Delphine around instead of killing Paarthurnax! And being able to become High King! Falskaar, Recorder, Sophia…wait, no, I hate Sophia. Multiple followers! Multiple marriages! All the traders have more than a handful of gold! Uh…oh! All the monsters, like Flame Atronachs, Spriggans and Wisp Mothers are all hot! And romanceable! Also, Frost Atronachs, Storm Atronachs and Dremora are also hot ladies!" Saul paused in thought. "And I'll survive the experience. And enjoy it."

Randolious held up a hand containing far more digits than a human hand. "In order: yes, realism, indeed, I believe I can allow that, realism and _realism again_ , why not, and fuck yes! Follow your desires to your heart's content! Although…" He tapped his chin in thought. "If you wish to fornicate with the female creatures, you must make an appropriate sacrifice…I'm of the mind that you must sacrifice a soul gem, as long as it's filled with a mammalian soul, it shall bridge the gap of… _compatibility_. The quality of the gem will increase the duration. Petty gems last fifteen minutes, lesser gems last half an hour, ect."

"Sweet!" The human cheered, pumping a fist. "How about…Magicka Sabers? I've always wanted to wield a laser sword."

"No actual lightsabers, but Magicka Sabers are acceptable," the Observant Deity acceded, before holding up a finger. "You must to invent them yourself, though."

Saul shrugged, already having a simple idea to create such a thing. "Yeah, alright. Uh…I can't think of anything else. Oh, wait!" He glanced around, tenting his fingers in front of his mouth, which did nothing to hide the disturbing sparkle in his eyes. "There are…quite a few ladies who are enemies…perhaps a spell or something to…make them _not_?"

"…You have a filthy mind," Randolious noted, a wide smile displaying far too many teeth. "I knew I made the right choice with you. Done."

Saul grinned and chuckled under his breath, rubbing his hands together. "Well, I think I'm all set…as I can be, considering you're about to throw me into a previously fictional world where dragons, undead, soul-sucking gems and Daedra exist…" The human paled for a brief moment, before shaking his head. "Fuck it, let's do it!"

"That's the spirit!" The Observant One cheered, opening a portal to Skyrim with negligent flick of His wrist. "Go forth, adventurer, wreak havoc and bring me much joy!"

The human made for the portal, only to stop at the very edge. "One last thing!" He spun around to face the deity. "I know pretty much everything there is to know about the quests! Can I use my knowledge and change everything?"

The deity stared at him for a few silent seconds, before proud tears began to leak from His eyes. "…I love you," He sniffed, nodding rapidly. "Of course, do as you please! Create as much chaos as possible! Now fly, my pretty, FLY!" Randy shoved him through the portal, wiping the last tear from His cheek and flopping down in His armchair. "And now, to be entertained!"

A viewing portal blazed into life before Him, Saul's adventures in Skyrim flashing before His eyes. After a few seconds of observing, He realized something He'd completely overlooked in his excitement. "Oh, you crafty mortal fuck!" He threw His head back and laughed, long and hard. "You think you can trick me without consequence, you magnificent little bastard? Oho, I don't think so!"

…

I heard the jangling of reins and the clopping of hooves long before my sleep crusted eyes fluttered open, sitting up in the back of the carriage with a low groan. "Stop bothering me Sissie, I only kicked half your boyfriend's ass," I muttered sleepily, blinking slowly. But instead of seeing the inside of my bedroom, with my desktop and Xbox on one side and a shrine to my Grandma on the other, I was sitting in the back of a carriage across from a dirty man with blonde hair.

Oh good, so I wasn't dreaming.

…Oh _shit, I wasn't_ dreaming.

Next to him was a thin man with brown hair and a shifty face, while sitting next to me was sturdily-built blond man with a gag in his mouth. Ulfric Stormcloak. His clothes were better than the leather and chainmail that Ralof wore, built for both protection, warmth and to project a stately appearance. So why the fuck did they count as clothes in the game?! There's even steel plate under the coat!

Of course, hysteria colored my thoughts. I doubted the shock would fade anytime soon.

But anyways, fuck Ulfric Stormcloak, he can take his rebellion of racists and shove it up his Nordic asshole. If I had my way, I'd unite Skyrim, end the war, become the strongest Dragonborn in history, become King!

…And gather the greatest women in Skyrim around me, not limited to but _definitely_ including Serana…my vampire waifu. Now _there_ is a woman deserving of love, especially the love of a powerful Dragonborn…She just wasn't the only one.

I barely paid attention to whatever Ralof was saying, partially because I'd literally heard it a hundred times before; but mostly because I was looking at the environment. Early morning sun, silver through the clouds descended like swords of light, filtered through the snow-flecked trees to catch the dew drops and set them glittering. The air was chilled and fresh, carrying the scent of pines, snow and rain on the breeze that whistled through the grey and brown trunks. It was stunningly beautiful, superior to every graphic mod in existence…

It was also cold as all hell. I eyed the Jarl sitting next to me, his coat more specifically. Whenever I got the chance…I would snatch it. He's a Nord, he can take it. "Watch your tongue, horse-thief!" Ralof barked and I jumped, thinking he was talking to me, even though I hadn't said anything to them. "You're speaking Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King of Skyrim!"

Nuh way. That's gonna be me, soon, and I don't share power. Not with dudes, anyway, unless they're super cool. And Ulfric most definitely does _not_ count.

"Shut up back there!" The guard driving the carriage barked. Yes please, shut up so I could enjoy the scenery more, for fuck's sake.

A stone gate with wooden doors came into view as the carriage clopped along, and over Ralof's shoulder I could see General Tullius in his gold armor ornamented but still pragmatic, sitting atop a mighty horse as he talked with a High Elf who, going by the golden skin, pointed ears and foreknowledge, was…Thalmor Emissary Elenwen. Oho, we're going to have _so_ much fun, you and I…

I also got my first view of what skimpy Thalmor robes looked like, though the distance meant it was only a brief glimpse of supple golden skin. The weird god had followed through with my wishes…and he hadn't caught on, either.

Riding through Helgen, taking in the wooden buildings, stone walls and towers draped with Imperial flags, I heard the townsfolk murmuring about 'the damn Stormcloaks' while the horse-thief started praying as he saw the headsman's block. "Hey man," I said casually, "Don't worry about it. Give it a couple minutes and it'll all work out." But he wasn't going to listen to me. Not like I cared.

"Aye," Ralof agreed solemnly, "Sovngarde awaits." That's not what I meant, dipshit, but keep thinking that.

The carriage pulled to a stop near the largest tower in the center of town, heavily-armored Imperials stepping forward to make sure I and my fellow prisoners wouldn't make a ruckus or an escape attempt, while archers waited in the wings. But, of course, the trouble wouldn't come from us…but on black wings.

…I was being a bit pretentious, yes, but I was still shocked out of my mind. Pretension is where I go when I'm scared. At least I wasn't gibbering with terror.

Carefully standing up, we prisoners shuffled out of the wagon, dropping to the rough cobbled road beneath. Before us stood a pair of Imperials, a man in leather with sections of chainmail strategically placed, who was holding a leather-covered book in one hand and a quill in the other. "Ulfric Stormcloak," He announced, marking it down as the gagged rebel stepped forward proudly, his head back and chin high. I only barely noticed that, though, my eyes were on the female Captain behind him. And for good reason.

Her chest armor would be a called a modest bikini back in my world, leaving the entirety of her stomach and a wide valley of cleavage bare. Her skirt, far from being a respectable and dignified Roman-worthy affair, was shorter, showed off most of her thighs and enhanced her hips. Her boots were less 'boots' and more high-heels with steel shin guards. But her pauldrons and helmet, however, were untouched, giving her a slightly top-heavy look.

It took all my willpower to not break out into laughter that was both triumphant and more than a little crazy, but I managed to distract myself by watching the corded muscle in her arms flex as she put her hands on her hips, glaring at Ulfric Stormcloak as he strode by.

"Ralof of Riverwood!" Hadvar called, the dirty blond guy stepping passed me as his name was called. "Lokir of Rorikstead!"

The shifty-looking guy who was riding with me was shaking as he stepped forward, his hands out in a plea. "You can't do this! I'm not a Rebel!" Seeing no comfort or mercy in the Imperial's faces, he bolted around Hadvar, ducking as the Captain reached out to grab him. "You're not gonna kill me!"

That proved to be a lie as the Captain shouted, "Archers!" And the two men behind her nocked arrows and calmly shot the fleeing man in the back. One arrow pierced through his chest, where the right lung would be, and the other hit him in the base of his neck. The horse-thief collapsed with a wet gurgle and died a second later. "Anyone else feel like running?"

…Huh.

That's it, Bitchy Captain-Woman, you're definitely my first target…not because she killed Low-key or whatever his name was, she was just a bitch.

"Wait a moment. You there, step forward," Hadvar frowned at me, peering at the book in his hands before squinting up at me. "Who…are _you?_ "

As I opened my mouth to answer, my world-view spun around, bringing me face-to-face with myself. I stood there in crappy sackcloth garments, rough pants and a shirt, my face a tad dirty and my eyes gleaming with what appeared to be madness. I was actually born sick and prematurely and my eyes hadn't finished properly developing, so my eyes just _gleamed_ , I wasn't actually insane. You have no idea how much trouble I got into just because I _looked_ like I was about to cackle and announce my plan for world domination.

The interesting thing, however, was a list to my left with the name of various races. Scrolling down, my jaw dropped as my body changed into an Orc; my skin became green, my teeth became sharper and larger, my ears became pointed but my eyes stayed the icy blue color. It was actually pretty ugly on an Orc.

When I scrolled down to Khajiit, I changed into a cat-man. My fur was a platinum brown color, like my hair, with large ears that were pierced several times over with golden rings. Oh hell no, I ain't no damn cat.

The Argonian was much the same, with dark grey scales, curled horns and red frills behind them. Both retained my eyes, and both times it was incredibly creepy to see human eyes in animal-ish faces. And as tempting as it was to be an Argonian, being both a Dragonborn that looked like a small dragon and being able to breathe water, I liked being human, thank you very much.

The human versions were pretty boring, actually, just me with different heights and skin colors. A Wood Elf made me a lot thinner, gave me a tan, pointed ears and angled eyes, while a Dark Elf made me a bit taller with charcoal-grey skin, and High Elf made me much taller, with golden skin and what could only be called a 'resting bitch face.'

I was going to be a sneaky-sneaky shooty-stabby type, but in the totally broken way that let me also go toe-to-toe with all the big bad beasties if I had to fight them straight-up. And to do that, I would need to be a Nord, so I scrolled down and picked it. Then it asked if I wanted to be a hybrid.

And fuck yes I did. Magic was too useful to leave by the wayside, Fast Traveling aside, but I also needed combat skill so I didn't get eaten by a wolf. And the best one for that, was a hybrid Nord and High Elf. Bonuses to combat and magic skills, with increased magicka regeneration and frost resistance, though at a lower level than a pure Nord or High Elf. Of course, that left my Sneak skills a tad low, but the Way Stones were just after leaving Helgen, so I could grab that and grind to my heart's content.

Well, actually, to grind for my _very_ broken special type of sneaky, I needed to do a few simple things first. And then grind-time after that. No way in hell I'm letting myself get bushwhacked, not by bandits or dragons. In Skyrim, Dragonborn bushwhacks _you!_

Being a hybrid of a Nord and a High Elf made me a few inches taller than the Nords, with a slight point to my ears and light gold color to my skin. Satisfied, I went into the other menus to decide my features. I bulked myself up a bit and made my hair a bit longer for the cold, and left some stubble on my face. Otherwise, I left my visage alone, I _like_ my face. And I couldn't change the eyes, for some reason.

The tattoos were cool, but they also brought out the maniacal gleam in my eyes and I wanted people to trust me, so that was right out.

Done, I locked in my choices and suddenly, I was back in my body. I felt more muscular and Hadvar had to look up to meet my eyes, but otherwise I felt about the same. "Saul…us Dewitt," I announced, somewhat lamely. Might as well make my name sound a bit more fitting to the setting, right?

Hadvar scribbled my name down. "You choose a bad time to visit Skyrim, halfblood," he sighed, looking over his shoulder at the woman standing with her hands on her hips. "What should we do, Captain? He's not on the list."

She turned to me, eyes raking up and down my form before she sneered. My jaunty wink wasn't appreciated. "He goes to the block, just like everyone else," she growled, turning on her heel and stomping towards the headsman.

"Well, that's not very fair," I said casually, stretching my bound wrists and sorely wishing I could scratch myself. Tattered rags; not very comfortable.

"We'll make sure you're buried with the proper respects," the Imperial list-reader reassured me, his tone low. "Follow the Captain, prisoner."

I already was, getting a rather nice view of her toned ass as she pushed through the throng of Stormcloaks, coming upon the sight of Tullius, his eyes hard as he stared down Ulfric. "Ulfric Stormcloak," he began scornfully, "Some here in Helgen call you a _hero._ But a _hero_ doesn't use a power like _The Voice_ to murder his king and usurp his throne."

I couldn't hear exactly what Mr. Rebel Boss-man said in reply, due to the gag in his mouth, but I imagined it was something along the lines of 'Kiss my ass.' Credit where credit is due.

"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into Chaos!" Tullis barked, his knuckles whitening on the hilt of is his sword as if he was resisting the urge to pull it out and gut Stormblanket on the spot. Actually…why didn't he? It would save everyone a lot of time. "And now, the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!"

Everyone paused and looked up at the mid-day sky as a strange, deep noise echoed through the air. "What was that?" Hadvar asked, craning his neck to peer at a nearby mountain.

"Nothing," the Imperial General muttered, shaking his head. "Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius," the Captain replied, nodding at a priestess I'd just noticed was standing next to her. "Give them their last rights."

…Wow. She had a hood attached to a pair of long, wide sleeves and a tan scarf that wrapped around her neck and draped artfully on top of her chest, giving a rather teasing view of her very perky-looking breasts. Below that, her robes were cut in such a way that gave snapshots of her stomach and thighs before coming together to cover her crotch and the front of her legs.

If the priestesses had looked like that back home, I would've been devout.

She raised her arms (which did very nice things to her chest) and began to speak, but my eyes were drawn to the burly man in black leathers, most of his face covered by a hood. In his hand, he held a long axe with a long blade, stained black with old blood. At his feet, there sat a wooden block with a groove cut out of it, leading to a basket. And on the center of that block, there were a series of grooves, and splashes of red in varying shades of black.

…Huh.

"For the love of Talos, shut up and get this over with!" A voice next to me barked, a Stormpillow striding passed me with his head held high.

The priestess lowered her arms and shot him a dirty look, sulking off behind the contingent of Legionnaires. "As you wish." The ' _asshole'_ she wished to add went tactfully unvoiced.

There was a second of confusion, before the eager-to-die Stormcloak barked, "Come on! I haven't got all morning!" That made the Imperial Captain get back into action, stepping up behind him, putting a foot in the back of his knee to make him kneel. As the headsman raised his axe above his head, the Stormcloak smirked. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperial. Can you say the same?"

Thwack. His head, propelled by the blood spurting from his neck, rolled down the slope and landed in the basket with a gentle thump.

…Huh.

The Captain carelessly nudged the freshly-made body with her foot and it slid off the block, landing in just the right way to show me the stump. "As fearless in death, as he was in life," Ralof sighed beside me, sounding proud.

…Dude. _DUDE._ His _head_ just got hacked off! His _HEAD._ Cut _OFF._

What. _The Fuck._

"Next, the halfbreed in the rags!" the Captain barked, pointing a finger of doom directly at me. Why _me?!_ The leader of the rebellion that's caused so much chaos was _right there!_

Actually…

"Hold on," I spoke up, stopping to clear my throat, "I get some last words, right?" A second, louder and definitely animalistic roar echoed across the sky. I couldn't help but feel relief, which really should've been a warning. I was actually looking forward to the threat of being eaten alive or burnt to a crisp than having my head chopped off. Just wonderful.

"There it is again," Hadvar wondered aloud, "Did you hear that?"

"I said, _next prisoner,"_ the bitchy Imperial growled, her hand on her sword.

"Wait, wait-wait," I said hurriedly, holding my bound hands up, "Before this all goes down, I just have a question I wanna ask."

"Quit stalling!" A Stormcloak near Ulfric called out, his voice thick with irritation.

Scowling, I turned and pointed at him. "You, yeah you. _Fuck_ you." I turned back to the Captain, then to Tullius, since he was the one actually in charge. "So, if you're going to restore the peace by killing all the Stormcloaks (which I'm not one of, by the way) and their leader…" I slowly pointed at the gagged Jarl mere feet away. "…Why aren't you executing him first?"

Tullius blinked. Ulfric scowled at me for a brief second, before he frowned in thought. Then, quietly, he looked at the Imperials and cocked his head in question. As did the other Stormcloaks. And the Imperials. I couldn't see them, but I'm pretty sure the villagers did too.

The General opened his mouth, but said nothing, looking to the Captain in confusion. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Then she flushed, turned to me and coughed out, "Block! Now!" There were quiet snickers at her obvious lack of an answer.

I looked up at the sky and upon seeing no spiky black dragons, frowned. Dammit. That meant I'd have to get…into _the position._ Sighing, I stepped forward and stood at the block. The Captain's foot hit the back of my knee, _definitely_ harder than she'd done with the first Stormcloak, and I fell onto the wood. Warm, sticky blood coated my cheek and my neck, the sharp copper tang invading my nostrils.

It was fucking gross.

The headsman clasped his axe in both hands and began to raise it…and deep, terrifying roar split the air. "What in _Oblivion_ is that?!" I heard Tullius shout as the giant black form of Alduin soared into my vision.

"Sentries, what do you see?!" The Captain shouted, a note of panic in her voice.

Alduin landed on the tower above us, burning red eyes peering down at us from a thickly-armored face, the spikes on his scales like scythes. " _Dragon!"_ A Stormcloak screamed.

'No shit!' I wanted to scream back. But my voice had left me. Terror had gripped my heart and in that moment…I really wished I was home.

Mommy.

Evidently, the dragon wasn't satisfied by the level of chaos he had caused, growling and rearing back to shout, ripples of power escaping his maw. The sky boiled, thick, ashen clouds swirling together into a rolling stormfront. It began to rain, but not water. Rocks bigger than my head, trailing hellish fire that exploded as they impacted the ground, the tower, the buildings…and the people.

A flaming meteor slammed into the ground just behind the headsman, the detonation sending me and him tumbling to the dirt. My vision blurred, a high-pitched screech ringing in my ears, not helped at all by the screaming, shouting and explosions going on around me. "Hey! Halfling! Get up!"

A rough hand grabbed me by the shoulder and shook me, the ringing fading away as I shook my head. Standing above me, Ralof shook me again and pulled me to my feet, crouching low as another fiery rock impacted the wagon we rode in on. "Come on! The gods won't give us another chance!"

I made to follow him but stopped, spinning around to look for the headsman; or his axe, more specifically. "Wait!" I found the headsman…that is to say, his pieces. Most of his body had been pulped, then shredded…or shredded _then_ pulped, but either way, he was dead.

…Huh.

And his axe was ruined, too.

Following Ralof into the tower, Ulfric slammed the door shut behind us and we rested against the stones, breathing hard. A guy Stormcloak stood over two others, both clutching bleeding wounds, chips of rock and ash marking their skin. "Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing?!" Ralof asked incredulously, "Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages," Ulfric replied gruffly, and through his stoic facade, I could see the panic in his eyes. "We need to move, now!"

"How about untying me first?!" I shouted over another explosion, waving my bounds hands around.

"No time!" Ralof called, shoving me up the steps. And unless I wanted to face-plant on stone stairs, I had to move.

Another Stormcloak was at the first landing, desperately shifting rubble aside. "Help me with this, we need to get through-!"

A giant black head smashed through the wall, sending even more debris scattering through the air and knocking the Stormcloak to the ground. I slammed myself against the wall as Alduin unleashed a river of flames on the poor guy, reducing him to a smoking, blackened skeleton in mere seconds.

…Huh.

The scent of burning flesh reached my nose, and I probably would've felt hungry if I wasn't already on the verge of screaming and hurling so hard my internal organs would go shooting out of my mouth.

Alduin withdrew and, without waiting for Ralof's directions, I leaped through the newly-made window, through the smashed roof of the inn below and landed on the second floor with a crack.

Oh god, my ankles!

My vision flashed red and a bar appeared at the bottom of my vision, contracting slightly as I took damage. Oh good, that god wasn't lying.

Running to the edge of the second floor, I slipped down safely and stopped just outside of the inn, where Hadvar was crouching next to an old, bald man and shouting at a kid, who was kneeling next to the fallen form of a man. "Haming, you need to get over here-now!" He shouted, and the man weakly pushed the kid away as Alduin landed behind him with an earth-shaking crash. "Torolf!"

I threw myself at the ground as a wide tongue of flames scorched the air, crying out as I felt the hairs on the left side of my head curl from the heat. Shakily pushing myself up, I found a hand gripping my elbow, hauling me to my feet. "Still alive, prisoner?" Hadvar asked, clear tracks marking the sweat that trailed down his grime-marked face. "Stay close to me if you want to keep it that way!"

He turned to say something to the old man and the kid and I ran, passed the burning corpse and through the gap between a stone wall and a smoking building. I stumbled as the World-Eater landed on the wall, the tip of a giant black wing brushing my arm as I skidded to a halt.

I heard the twang of a bowstring, heard the whistle of the wind through the fletching for a brief second as an arrow split the air. Then it bounced off Alduin's nose with a pathetic tink.

That was, obviously, an enormous insult, and the dragon unleashed another gout of flames at the brave, dumb bastard who shot at him before taking to wing again. I inched around the wall, giving the smoldering corpse a few glances, making sure there wasn't anything I could use to cut myself free, but no. All the metal the man had been carrying had been melted, even his sword.

I pushed through the burning house, uncaring of the shard of burning wood that scratched my thigh, my health bar dropping minutely. Tullius stood near the gate, his sword held loosely in his hand as he screamed orders, archers loosing arrows wildly, the priestess throwing fireball after fireball at the black dragon swooping through the columns of smoke.

I looked towards the Keep and I saw the armored form of the Bitchy Captain as she directed citizens through the door. Oh hell no, she wasn't getting away from me. I would have my _revenge_.

I barely noticed the screaming, the smoke, and scent of ash and the roar of Alduin's flame breath as it roasted people and buildings, as I sprinted at her. I must've been shouting or something, because she turned around to look at me just as I put my shoulder down and slammed into her, carrying her through the door and into the Keep. Heat licked at my heels and I stumbled over the stone, impacting a pillar and falling to ground, stunned.

"I think we're safe for now," Hadvar muttered, helping me up. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it. You, me, and the Captain. It was very brave of you, saving her like that."

I blinked, shaking my head slightly. "Wha?"

"That dragon would've toasted her if you hadn't pushed her out of the way," the list-man explained, drawing a dagger from his belt and cutting through my bonds with one quick motion. "Although, you did kind of slam her into a pillar, I don't think she'll be very appreciative."

Whoops. She wanted to cut my head off just because I was on the same cart as the Stormcloaks, and I doubted a dragon would make her any less decapitation-happy. I needed something. And I had something.

…Just no idea how to get it. Pause, I thought, the world stopping as the familiar Skyrim menu popped up. On the right side, Inventory. One the left, Powers. And at the top, Skills. But there was no bottom Map menu.

The menu shifted as I looked and Powers, finding it just as it was in the game, with all the different magic schools separated by name, with Powers at the bottom. Opening that, I found a small list. **Half-Nord: 25% Frost Resistance (Passive). Half-Altmer: +25 Magicka (Passive)**. And then, under that, a power called 'The Touch.'

 **The Touch: You've got it. And the Power. Using this power while touching someone will allow you to change their mind however you want with your words. Make your enemies into pals! Want a new best friend? Or a lover? All it takes…is a touch. Useable four times a day.**

It was exactly what I needed. Equipping it, I closed the Powers menu and opened the inventory. Just as I'd thought, I had only a Ragged Shirt, a pair of Ragged Trousers, and Ragged Footwraps. Going back, I re-opened the Powers menu and looked at the Magic. There were two spells, Heal and Sparks, which fit me just fine. I'd always wanted to pull a Palpatine. Curiously, there was no damage number, just a Magicka cost.

And in Conjuration, there was **Mark and Recall: Leave a Mark in any location, and Recall there instantly, bringing any Party Members with you. Only two Marks may be placed at your skill level.** Well, I knew what I had to grind…

…Besides _everything._

Closing it down, Hadvar sprang back to life. "Might want to take a look around, there should be plenty of gear to choose from." He winced, rubbing a stretch of raw pink skin on his arm. "I'm going to look for something for these burns…and the Captain's head."

"Ugh…" Said Captain moaned, pushing herself up slowly, "What hit me…?" Then, her eyes fell on me and she growled, "You!"

"Captain, wait!" Hadvar protested as she drew her sword and lunged at me.

Luckily, she was still pretty dizzy and missed by a wide margin, leaving an opening just large enough for me to reach out and grasp her shoulder. My fingers tingled, and I _knew_ the power was working. "You like me now," I said quickly, before adding, "I'm your friend, and you'll follow my orders…but not if they're stupid."

The Captain halted, shakily sheathing her sword as she turned to face me. "I…I'm sorry," she whispered morosely, a hand rising to cover her face. "I almost killed you, even though you saved me… _after_ I almost had your head cut off."

"It's alright…" I paused awkwardly, since I didn't know her name. "The War hasn't been easy on anyone."

"That's no excuse," she shook her head roughly. "We aren't savages…but I certainly made it look that way, didn't I?" The Captain took her helmet off, releasing her hair from the tight bun it had been in and running a hand through it. "My name is Clauda, by the way. Grab whatever you need and let's get out of here."

As I moved to get some armor, I saw Hadvar staring at me, a single tear slipping down his cheek. "That…that was incredibly moving," he said, turning back to his searching.

What the hell did I say? Shaking it off, I cracked open a chest, finding a set of light Imperial Armor inside. Reaching inside, I tapped the armor and it disappeared. A sudden extra weight at my hip made me look down and I realized there was a belt tied around my waist, with a simple leather pouch hanging from it. Pulling it open, I reached inside…and continued reaching inside until my fingers brushed the leather. Grabbing it, I pulled the Imperial armor out and shook it. Then I put it back in, and thought, _Inventory._

The menu opened, and I equipped the armor from the menu. Instantly, the rough sackcloth I'd been wearing was replaced by the slightly-less uncomfortable leather armor. I figured out I could put clothes and armor on manually, or equip them from the menu. And as easy as it was to just equip everything, losing the ability to clothe myself from sheer laziness was _not_ something I wanted to fall prey to.

The chest nearby that one yielded a light helm and a pair of leather boots that I put slipped and and tightened. "Legion armor suits you," Captain Clauda noted admiringly, narrowing her eyes as she rebound her hair and put her steel helm back on. "Although you look a little awkward in leathers. Something a little heavier might fit you better."

"My thoughts exactly," I muttered, stretching my arms and feeling an odd wriggling in my stomach. Actually, I knew exactly what it was: Fear. In the next room, I was going to have to kill some people. Although, I still had three more uses of The Touch…

"Take this," Hadvar tossed me a sheathed sword that I tied to my belt, pulling it out a bit to examine the serviceable iron blade. It wasn't pretty, but it'd work. "And one of these, too." It was a simple shield, tough hide stretched over a wooden frame and bolted in place. I wouldn't be pulling any Captain America shit with it, but it'd protect me.

"I saw several Stormcloaks escape into this place," Clauda warned, drawing her wide steel sword and hefting another Hide Shield on her arm. "I doubt they'd be willing to listen to reason, given who they follow, but we _should_ try and work together. That dragon…I think it may be the start of something worse than the Civil War."

I reached up and yanked on the pull-chain locking the door, the wooden grate swinging open. The Captain took point as voices echoed from down the hall. A pair of Stormcloaks rested near a wide wooden door, their eyes widening as they saw us. "Hey now, let's talk-"

"Imperial bastards!" One of the pair, a male, shouted as he drew an axe and swung, Clauda deflecting the blow with her sword. The second, a female with dirty blonde hair and a two-handed battleaxe, screeched as she swung at me. Raising my shield, my arm shook as the blow gouged a chunk out of the hide and I stepped in, my free hand tingling as I grabbed the Stormcloak by the face.

"You like me now! You'll follow me and also you've realized the Stormcloaks are dumb!" I shouted over the sound of Hadvar and Clauda double-teaming the other guy, his life ending with a spray of blood as the Captain lopped his head off.

The woman stumbled, her eyes glazed slightly before she shook her head. "You're right," she muttered, leaning on her axe and ignoring the bodies of her former comrades. "We should work together to get out of this mess…but I don't think the Stormcloaks will agree. They hate the Empire too much."

She had a rather nice accent. "Imagine that, a Stormcloak acting reasonable," Clauda muttered acidly, as I rolled a dead man for his goods. His chest armor was damaged, but his gloves were not, even if they were fur. Protection was protection. I tested the crude iron axe that'd been lying next to him and found it to be more comfortable in my hand than the iron sword. Not that I didn't like swords, I was just used to handling a different style. "You're staying in front, Stormcloak. Saulus may trust you, but I do not."

"The name is Cella!" The blonde woman rebuked, tugging on the end of her hair. "And I doubt I will be a Stormcloak after this." She walked ahead, her axe resting on her shoulder as we descended into the keep.

In front of us, I could see the shadows of people further in, but the earth shook and a muffled roar echoed through the air. I lost my feet as tons of rock crashed down in front of me, the dust rising to choke the air. A strong, feminine hand clasped my shoulder and helped me up, and I found myself nodding at Cella. "Thanks."

She nodded back and pushed open a nearby door. "This seems to be the only way forward," she noted, perking up slightly as she saw two more Stormcloaks inside. "Hail! Join us, as we make for safety!"

"Cella!" Both of them were men, greeting her happily before they saw me, Clauda and Hadvar behind her. "Imperials, look out!" One picked up a nearby bottle and hurled it at us, drawing their weapons and charging.

The one on the left drew his arm back to attack, but was forced to block as Cella swung at him. "Traitor!" He shouted, shoving her away and winding up. I jumped in front of her, catching the blow on my shield and grunting as the force shook my arm, my health bar dropping a bit. I made to attack with my axe, but the Stormcloak shifted his grip and faster than I could follow, rapped the side of my head with butt of his warhammer.

I tripped back, dazed, and he put his all into unleashing another blow. Cella slipped in front of me, raising her axe and stumbling as the hammerhead crunched into the haft of her weapon. I jumped forward, smashing the Stormcloak in the face with my shield. As he flinched back, I drew my axe back and swung at his head.

The blade bit into the side of his neck, lodging in his spine with a crunch. His eyes went wide, following the haft of my axe up my arm and into my eyes. In that moment, we had connected. I could feel the fear in him, the dismay…then I ripped my axe out and he collapsed like a felled tree.

…Huh. I Killed a man for the first time. In all the stories I've read, I should've been hurling up my insides, the guilt pouring from my eyes…but I wasn't. I felt…not _good,_ but not _bad_ , either. A sort of primal satisfaction, and the slightest bit of guilt. After all, I'd just killed a man who was much more experienced than I was…but I could have used my Touch on him. And I didn't want to.

The other Stormcloak was taken care of when Hadvar slipped under his guard and stabbed him through the chest. "Check the room for supplies," Clauda ordered, wiping her sword on the dead man's armor. "If I remember right, there should be some potions in the barrels."

Neither of the Stormcloaks had any money on them, and their armor wasn't much better than my own, so I turned my attention to the room. A few ropes of garlic and dried Elves' Ear hung from a nearby rack, which I stripped and stuck in my inventory, as well as a few bottles of wine and bowls of salt. How they didn't spill in my pouch, I chalked it up to magic and didn't think about it too hard. There was also half a loaf of bread on the table, which I tore into like an animal.

It was tough, chewy, and a bit too salty, but it hit the spot like nothing else. In a very brief amount of time, I'd been summoned by some kind of capricious god-like entity, managed to trick him a little, then been sent into one of my favorite video-games of all time…except it was the real-life version. And then I'd been nearly executed, then nearly roasted by a dragon about eight times, _and then_ I'd had to watch several people die…and then I'd killed someone.

And in the moments to come, I'd have to kill more.

Swallowing the last bite, I cracked a barrel open with the blade of my axe, finding five minor potions of health, stamina and magicka that I sent to my Inventory. "Done!" I called, grabbing another bowl of salt and magicka potion, along with the five gold scattered on the table next to it. I also grabbed the eggs in the basket.

"I hate that we have this," Hadvar muttered, descending down the steps into the torture chamber. "I hear fighting ahead!"

We rushed down into cage-lined room, two Imperial men fighting off two Stormcloaks, one guy and one girl. "Help me stop her," I muttered to Cella, rushing down the steps to shoulder-charge the other woman in the back. She stumbled back into one of the cages, leaving her open to my grasping hand. I grabbed her by the arm, fingers tingling, and said, "You like me now! You're my friend, you're going to work with us to escape, and the Rebellion isn't smart!"

She blinked at me through glazed eyes, before nodding. "Right, we-" She cried out as a lightning bolt seared her side and threw her to the ground, twitching.

"Yadis!" Cella cried, turning furious eyes on the Imperial torturer as he smirked, "You bastard!" Then she slammed her axe into his chest, the shaft snapping as he spun around and collapsed to the ground.

"Old man!" A big, bald Imperial in heavy armor shouted in distress, turning to my first Stormcloak companion just in time to receive a makeshift spear of splintered wood to the eye socket. He screamed and tottered away, grasping at the broken shaft and yanking it out of his face before slowly tipping over, his heavy armor crashing as he hit the stone.

"That was completely unnecessary!" Clauda shouted, leveling her sword at the unrepentant Stormcloak. "They could've helped us!"

"I don't want help from someone who tortures people!" Cella rebuked sharply, kicking the dead male Stormcloak over to grab the iron battleaxe he'd been wielding. "I'm only tolerating _you_ for Saulus' sake!"

I, meanwhile, had carefully pulled the lady Stormcloak up, leaning her on my shoulder as she clutched the scorched flesh on her side. "Here, drink this," I uncorked a health potion and put it to her lips, tilting it back to pour it down her throat. "Yadis, right? You alright?"

"We Nords are tough," she muttered, heaving herself to her feet with my help. "Thank you, though."

"No problem," I turned to the arguing women and whistled. "Hey! Let's shout at each other when we're all out of this, huh?"

Clauda grunted but nodded. "You have a point," she muttered, glaring at Cella out of the corner of her eye, before kneeling next to the dead Imperial. "Come get this armor, Saulus, I think it'll fit you better. And it's not like he'll be needing it."

Not wanting to bother with all the tedious parts of stripping a corpse, I tapped the body and the Inventory screen popped up. I equipped the armor from there, enjoying the comforting weight of steel on my body. Closing it, I traded the half-broken Hide Shield for a sturdier Iron Shield. "Find any lockpicks?" I asked, glancing at the cages.

"Here," Hadvar said, tossing me a bundle of thin metal instruments. "Looks like there's something in these cages, but I've never been any good at cracking locks."

Nodding in thanks, I knelt next to the cage containing a dead mage, the interface dominating my vision, which I was glad for. I can pick a lock with a bobby-pin and screwdriver if it's simple, but I at least know how the Skyrim lock-picking works. As I got to work, I wondered: what kind of dumbass kept lockpicks in a _prison_? Then it hit me: I thought of them as lockpicks and identified them as such, but what would thin metal instruments be used for in a torture chamber?

…Ew.

Cracking the lock, I jumped as a quick drumroll rang in my ears and a bar appeared in my vision. **Lock-picking: 16**. That wasn't going to get annoying at all.

Stripping the dead mage of his goods, I grabbed the gold and the Flames Spell Tome, resolving to read it later. I mean, the books just vanish when used in-game, who knows how cool and mystic they could be as an actual book? Then, I cracked the other cage and grabbed the bone meal of the skeleton inside, which made me wonder: how did an entire skeleton get ground down into a bowl that weighs half a pound? And why was there still a skeleton in the cage?

Questions for later.

Searching the room, I looted some gold and a health potion from a knapsack and grabbed the book about Dragonborns nearby, as well as the steel dagger off the torturer and the lockpicks in the caged room. I also grabbed the spare iron shield and passed it off to Clauda. As we walked down the hall leading away from the torture chamber, I cracked the locks (and two of my lockpicks) on the closed doors, grabbing myself some more bone meal and a purse of twenty coins. Why that was in a cell with a body, I have no idea.

The next room had cages, small ones, hanging from the ceiling and resting on the ground, some containing bones and one, a week-old corpse. Searching them yielded some more meal and gold, and then we moved through the newly-made whole in the back wall and found ourselves in a natural cave system, ice-cold water running a stream next to the path. "More Stormcloaks, up ahead," Yadis called back, unholstering her warhammer. "Should we try and talk to them?"

"Every Stormcloak I've tried to talk to called me a traitor and tried to kill me," Cella shook her head with a sigh. "Are we really that obstinate?"

"Yes," Clauda and Hadvar replied at the same time.

"I hear Susin with them," Yadis said in lieu of reply. "Perhaps she will be more open?"

"Let me talk to her," I muttered, feeling my fingers tingle, "It worked with you guys…girls."

"Good point," The Captain nodded, readying her shield as we stepped into the wider cave. "Stormcloaks!"

There were six of them. Two had been conversing on the lower level, while two more stood on the higher and the last two carried bows, standing on the other side of the cave. They shouted battlecries and drew their weapons, us clashing with them. A male Stormcloak with a shield and axe shouted, "Traitors!" at Cella and Yadis, attacking them with wild, angry swings. The woman behind him, armed with a battleaxe, charged at me with a yell.

Her swing bounced off my shield with a satisfying thunk, my health barely dropping. I shifted my shield and slammed her in the chest with it, sending her tripping back, and I lashed out to grab her hand. "You like me, you'll follow me, Rebels are dumb, etc." I said quickly, pulling her back up. Then an arrow sprouted out of my shoulder. " _Ow!_ Fuck!" **Heavy Armor: 17**

With a warcry, my new friend spun around and sprinted at the archers, her axe raised high. "…Susin?" The first one asked, his tone heart-broken. Then she split his head in half with her axe.

Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I hefted the axe in my hand and hurled it at the last archer. It spun, end over end, before slamming home in his chest, sending him sprawling back into orange oil on the ground.

Cella hooked the Stormcloak's shield with the bottom of her axe-head, pulling it aside to allow Yadis the opening to pulp his head with her hammer. Clauda and Hadvar had also dealt with their enemies, though the list-reader had gained a thin gash on his left arm. "Everyone good?" I called, glancing at my new wound. Whoever had shot me was good or lucky, because the arrow had slipped right under the steel pauldron and sunk into my flesh. Gritting my teeth, I brought up my healing spell and yanked the arrow out of my shoulder, the soothing chimes, soft glow and comforting warmth wiping the pain away a second later.

Health potions and Restoration, a man's best friends.

"We're fine," Cella said, setting her axe on her shoulder and patting the other former lady Stormcloak on the arm. "Glad you decided to join us, Susin."

Retrieving my axe and looting the body of its bow and arrows, as well as the few coins, I heard Susin reply, "I never realized how pointless the Rebellion was until my friend explained it," she punched my shoulder, smiling softly. "And besides, I could never leave you two alone. We're Battle-Sisters."

…Huh. The dissonance of her saying that after having turned on the other Stormcloaks was… _striking_ , to say the least. My power was more than a little terrifying. I was glad I was the only one who had it.

Regrouping at the far end of the cave, I pulled the lever and dropped a wooden bridge across the gap. As we crossed it, a roar echoed through the cavern, the ceiling shaking as a chunk of stone was dislodged, crushing the bridge into splinters. "Guess we can't go back," Hadvar said lightly, as if we hadn't just barely avoided death by collapsing masonry…again.

"I'm fairly certain most of the keep has collapsed," Clauda muttered, scrubbing her face with the back of her hand. "To think that a dragon could cause this much damage…The Empire is _not_ prepared for something like that."

"Neither are the Stormcloaks," Susin piped up, snagging a health potion from a broken skeleton, tossing the small purse of coins to me. "You think we knew that thing would be coming? It killed just as many of us as it did you."

The cave had become draped in cobwebs, which was our first warning that the next few minutes weren't going to be fun. I held up a hand and crouched, drawing my bow as I snuck forward and peeked at the cavern below. Webs large enough to catch a man, and men-shaped cocoons signalled that this area was home to Frostbite Spiders and sure enough, I could see some cat-sized motherfuckers scurrying about. "Spiders," I whispered and as one, said spiders froze, extending the small legs in front of the mandibles into the air. Shutting my mouth, we waited in tense silence for a few seconds before the spiders went back to moving.

 **Sneak: 16**

Waving my party back, we crept back up the incline. "There's no way around," I whispered, "We're gonna have to go through them."

"How many spiders did you see?" Hadvar asked carefully, pulling his looted bow off of his shoulder.

"Five or so, probably a few more hidden at the top of the cave," I replied, mentally going over how to use a bow. It'd been a few years since I'd shot one, but it would be easy enough. Nock, draw, aim, loose. Like shooting a bike. "Hadvar and I can shoot them from the top of the incline. Hopefully, they'll rush us and bottle themselves up."

"They like to spit poison," Yadis pointed out, getting a grimace and nod from the others.

Us two guys crouched down and snuck back to the top of the little hill, nocking and drawing or bows. I took aim at one of the little fuckers, feeling the tension of the string traveling up my arm, and let go it. The arrow zipped through the air and pierced a spider's thorax. It released an odd, chittering wail that was then silenced by Hadvar's arrow.

The remaining spiders turned towards, flexing weirdly and firing blobs of poison and web. I dodged one and drew another arrow, sending it flying down into another of the skittery little fucks, hitting it right between the eyes.

Even with two dead, they powered towards us like a little furry wall of chittery spider-ness. The whole 'bottling them up' was a good idea, if they'd been people, and not capable of _crawling on the walls_. I heard Yadis curse behind me, and desperately wished I knew some magic.

And then I slapped myself, because _I did._ Pausing, I opened the magic menu and selected Sparks, feeling an entirely different tingle travel down my arm. Closing it down, I held my arm up, thin crackles of lightning dancing on my skin, and pushed on the tingles.

Bolts of blue electricity flew from my hand, sinking into the spiders and leaving charred husks behind. It was only after I saw the blue bar at the bottom left my vision beginning to blink and let the spell up, a strange weariness in my bones. Then came the little drumroll. **Destruction: 18**.

"You know, that would've been useful from the beginning," Clauda muttered, clapping me on the shoulder. "I hear High Elves are supposed to be good with Magicka."

"You'd think," I shrugged, not wanting to admit that I'd completely forgotten about it. I nocked another arrow as we stepped down into the web-hung cave, feeling my arms burn from the strain. Aiming up, I loosed my shot at the top and two spiders the size of a small horse dropped, chittering angrily. One landed right in front of me, mandibles flexing as it fired a poison shot directly at my face.

Letting loose an inarticulate squeal, I dove out of the way and Clauda caught the shot on her shield, grunting as some of the venom splashed on her arm. I flexed my magic again, getting only a pathetic stream from my depleted magicka that still made the huge fucking spider flinch back, opening it enough for the Imperial Captain to close the distance and bury her sword through its head. The crunch of steel piercing chitin was horrifying, but just as satisfying in a weird way.

The former Stormcloak ladies handled the other one easily, Cella hacking a leg off with her axe while Yadis pounded its face into mulch. The cavern didn't yield much in the way of gold, but I recovered a couple of lockpicks from the human bodies and spider eggs, but just by tapping the outer shell. No way in hell was I going to stick my hand in one of those, fuck that.

The next area was another cavern, but much wider, with a stream flowing through it and light shining in from the gaps above. Of course, there was also a slumbering bear at the far end. "Should we try to sneak around? We _could_ try and kill it before it wakes up," Hadvar suggested.

I pretended to look thoughtful, but there was no way we'd be able to get passed that bear, and I wanted the claws and fur to get a head start on Alchemy work. I'd definitely need them. "Better not take any chances," I whispered back, nocking an arrow. "Where's the best spot to shoot a bear?"

"The neck, the eye, and the armpit," Yadis rattled off, pointing out the spots she'd described. "At this angle, I'd say go for the neck or the arm."

Humming in acknowledgement, I drew the bowstring back, took aim, and loosed my shot.

And I missed completely.

My arrow pierced the bear's side and it jumped to its paws with a yowl, turning and snarling. "That was the ribs," Yadis said calmly, "I guess you were aiming for the armpit."

"The neck, actually," I replied, with a calmness I didn't feel. Reaching back, I felt only two more shafts in my quiver and cursed to myself even as I drew and nocked the second to last arrow. It skimmed just over the bear's back hair. "Shit, shit, shit." I nocked the last arrow, pulled the bowstring back, and breathed deeply.

Then, I let go.

My arrow flew and I could almost follow it in my mind's eye as it split the air, whistling softly before it sank deeply into the bear's eye. The beast roared painfully and collapsed, sliding on its face in the dirt until it came to a stop, dead.

 **Archery: 16**

"Look at that, you did it," Yadis clasped my shoulder in congratulations, giving me a slight shake. "Good work. This your first time hunting a bear?"

"Yeah," I replied shakily, shouldering my bow with a sigh. "I need more arrows." I stopped near a wooden cart, taking the two bottles of alto wine and a heavy coin purse into my inventory, and swapping out my light leather helm with a horned Iron Helm. The metal was cold against my brow, but it felt nice after past thirty minutes of fighting and killing. Though, I did wonder how all that had gotten down there. Maybe some Imperials had been doing some smuggling?

Stepping up to the bear's corpse, I opened its inventory and frowned. There was only some bear claws, despite it still very obviously having its hide. "You know how to skin this?" Yadis asked as the others scouted ahead. At my head shake, she held out her hand. "Give me your dagger, and I'll show you how to skin it, and the best cuts of meat."

What followed was a quick, bloody lesson as the former Stormcloak took the bear apart with my Steel Dagger, peeling the hide off, plucking the claws, and stripping the sinews. "Thanks for that, Yadis," I stuffed it all in my inventory and took my cleaned dagger back before helping her to her feet. "It was…enlightening."

"Of course, my friend," she bumped my shoulder with hers, a smile on her lips. It was then that I noticed she had rich brown hair, two simple braids behind her ears while the rest was loose. Her eyes were light green, and over all, she was very attractive. Her Stormcloak uniform, being as skimpy as I'd asked, looked less like something a Rebel would wear and more like she had a tube-top made of leather and chainmail, boyshorts of the same, with the quilted blue fabric acting like a tabard. It also showed off all the muscle that came from a woman who swung a heavy warhammer around; it was all _very_ nice to look at.

Though, the way she referred to me as a friend made me feel a tad guilty. I'd turned the woman against her brothers with a touch and a sentence, and she was smiling at me and treating me like we'd known each other for weeks, instead of the hour it'd actually been. But the feeling faded quickly; after all, what was better for her? Alive and my friend, or a dead enemy?

The former, obviously.

Clauda, Hadvar, Cella and Susin waited for us at the exit of the cave, the sunshine nearly white after being underground for so long. We climbed towards it, feeling the Skyrim breeze on our skin, and exited into the world proper.

Blinking away the light, I saw Skyrim stretch out before me. Snow melted into a riot of colors, green, blue, red, purple, brown, a barrow-capped mountain rising in the distance, fog clinging to grey crags that almost sparkled in the afternoon sun. The sky was blue, streaked with fluffy white clouds that just inched over the mountain's peak. Clean, fresh air melded with scents of snow and flowers, hinted with pine and fir.

It was utterly breathtaking.

Then, a roar echoed through the air as Alduin winged his way down the valley, his black form disappearing into the clouds, bringing with it the acrid smell of smoke and burnt flesh.

I started to freak out.

A high-pitched whine escaped my mouth and I cupped my face, subconsciously knowing that I was hyperventilating and also possibly going into shock. Subconsciously, because the only thoughts going through my head were: _I want my sisters. I want my dad. I want my mom!_ And _I am_ _ **so**_ **fucked!**

A hand cracked against my cheek, snapping me out of it. I blinked hard, shaking my head and turning to find Clauda with her hand outstretched. "Are you done?" She asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

"Yeah," I breathed, clenching my shaking hands into fists. "Yeah, yeah, I'm…yeah…no. No, no, I'm _not done_ , I'm _freaking out!_ I just-I nearly had my head cut off! The guy who was going to do it got exploded by a _freaking Meteor_ that came from a _storm_ that was _summoned_ by a _Dragon_ _ **Shouting!**_ _And Then_ , I nearly got roasted alive several times-and I watched _other_ people get scorched into _burnt_ _ **meat**_ , then had to _kill_ a bunch of people, I shot lightning out of my hands at _spiders the size of_ _ **Cats**_ and _then!_ I killed a bear!" I paused and took a deep, calming breath.

And then I screamed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA_ _ **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"**_

Turning away from them, I found the nearest snowbank, dropped to my knees, and planted my head in it. The shock of cold helped clear my head, focusing me on the present. The horrible, terrifying present.

I'd been kidnapped by a god-like entity, granted boons because I amused him/it, then thrown into a world I know very well. At first, I thought it would be fun, leaving my family behind, journeying to a new world where I could become someone new.

I didn't realize just how terrible it would be, seeing the destruction that Alduin could bring to bear, hearing and smelling human flesh being charred by dragon fire, killing people with an axe, shooting spiders and bears with a bow…And it was only going to get worse from there. I hadn't fought any draugr yet, or even a god-damned _dragon._

But the reality was, there was no way to get back, to renege on the new life I'd been given.

"Alright, Saulus?" Hadvar asked as I removed my head from the snow. "We should get moving, Riverwood's close by. My uncle's a blacksmith there."

"Yeah, I'm calm," I replied, brushing myself off. "Let's go."

I had knowledge, I had skill, I had power and the means and absolute desire to acquire more. I would become the most powerful man in Skyrim and eventually, the lands beyond. I was the Dragonborn, like Tiber Septim before me. There would be no danger I couldn't face, no enemy I couldn't kill, no challenge I couldn't outwit, no depths I wouldn't plumb to seize every scrap of power I could get my hands on.

I could do it. I could become _a Legend._

…

…

…I was gonna _fucking_ _ **die.**_

…

…

…

 **A/N: Hey, lookit that? Who could've seen this coming? First new story of the year! Whoo!**

 **So, I've wanted to write a Skyrim story for a long time now, but could never really find the impetus to do so until I hit upon an idea, that is to say, and idea that has been used before: Some random god throws some random dude into a new world for their entertainment. And, in this case, gets a little bit of the Gamer power thrown in the mix. But not the full Gamer package, just a slight one that'll help skip the tedious bullshit. I'm kinda bored of the whole Gamer deal, so I like to put a little twist on it.**

 **And that's how we get this story. It was Originally going to be a Parody/Crack story, but I discovered that A: I suck at crack, B: I like drama too much. If this had been crack, it would've gotten halfway done before I gave up and never touched it again. But, by making it a serious, semi-realistic story, I keep myself invested.**

 **And obviously, it's M-Rated. Not just for the violence and language, but also sexy times, though I should state, for the record, that Saul is never going to use his Power to commit any rapes. I should also warn you that, distasteful as it is, rape is still a thing that happens. I can only promise that _he_ won't rape anyone, nothing further. It's all on the table. Like a Scary Buffet. Little bit of brainwashing, little bit of goofiness, little bit of cannibalism, little bit of action.**

 **I've also been disappointed by the lack of good stories in Skyrim. Either they never do what I would've done, being the whole appeal of Skyrim and RPGs in general, or they never get updated.**

 **And I'm looking to change that.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed all this and look forward to more, because trust me, there** _ **will**_ **be more. I've been playing Skyrim since it came out, there's quite a bit to go through.**

 **Big thanks to NorthSouthGorem, Dairegh, Kurgane7 and AJR3333 (Austin) for their help, why don't you give a look and a shout from your old pal Soleneus?**

 **Stay Awesome**

 **~Soleneus**

 **P.S.: I know some people are gonna bitch about the MC being an Empire supporter, and you're allowed to have your opinion, but keep it to the story itself, okay?**

 **Austin: I wish I could've placed some markers around to mark the points in this chapter where I died of laughter. I swear, dude, not even terrorists have this many kill counts you have on me alone. You can be a real psycho sometimes, you know that?**

 **Also, some people still ask if I'm a guy and I'm wondering if it's because you can shorten my name to Solene. If it is, shit, I'm late to that party.**

 **But yeah, I'm a dude.**

 **Stay Awesome Some More.**

 **~still Soleneus**

 **Also your opinion is shit and you should get a better one. Long live the Empire!**

… **That's going to be very ironic in the future.**


	2. The First Dungeon

"You've got quite a voice there, Saulus," Cella said, running her fingers through the long blades of green grass as they descended a hill. "Perhaps you should visit the Bard's College."

"Yeah, maybe," I said, shoving another handful of snow in my mouth. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was until I'd planted my head in a snowdrift, but it made sense. Alduin was breathing fire, fighting for my life was hard work, and magicking those goddamn spiders had made me sweat; along with the strange weariness of using magic for the first time.

There'd better be some kind of magical canteen that's always full and purifies the water inside, or I'mma be pissed. For one, having to constantly fill a waterskin and filter it by myself would not only be boring, but also total bullshit because _magic_. Also, toothbrushes and bathrooms. I don't want to scrub my teeth with sand or something, that'd be pretty hard to find in freakin' Skyrim. I also don't want to shit in pots or something like that.

I'm not saying I _absolutely need_ modern amenities, but it _is_ a magical world. It just made sense that someone, at some point, said 'this sucks, let's make a spell that does it instead.'

Bending slightly, I tapped a Lavender flower and the bush was stripped, the notation blinking in the corner of my vision. "If it's not too much trouble, can you grab all the flowers you see as we go?"

"Why?" Yadis asked, eyeing me playfully, "Planning on putting a bouquet together?"

"I've never been to Skyrim and I want to experiment with Alchemy," I replied with a shrug. "Plus, I get the feeling that I'm going to need a keg of health potions really soon. That, and some healing spells."

"One can never be too prepared," Clauda nodded, casually running her fingers through a bush, rather neatly separating the red flowers from the stems. "Here." She held her hand out and I tapped the petals.

 **(5) Red Mountain Flower**

…Wait a minute, five? How does that-

"These are the ancient Guardian Stones, three of thirteen dotted around the landscape," Hadvar announced, reaching out to run his hands on the well-worn stones, the carved image of an axe-wielding warrior snarling back at him. "They're said to give blessings to those who choose to follow the way of the Warrior, Mage or Thief. Saulus, which would you choose?"

"Oh, no contest," I reached out and patted the stone depicting a cloaked thief with twin daggers in his hands. A low, tinkling hum sang gently in my ear as the constellation making up the carving began to shine, a ball of ethereal blue-white light forming in the circular gap above. The tinkling reached a crescendo and a beam of light shot into the sky, but none of my compatriots reacted even slightly to the obvious magic. Either they couldn't see it, or it was so commonplace they didn't care. Could've been either or, really.

Hadvar frowned slightly, eyeing my Heavy Imperial Armor and Iron Shield. "I didn't take you for the sneaking type," he said, somewhat disapprovingly. Hey, I wasn't the one wearing light armor, buddy, eat a dick.

"Exactly," I nodded, rapping my cuirass, the solid metal vibrating slightly. "I'm not the best at the sneaky stuff," well, my stats weren't, at least, "So having a blessing that helps with the sneaky stuff should fill that hole rather nicely." Not to mention, it wasn't that long a walk from Whiterun to Riverwood and then the stones. When I got down to grinding, I'd be visiting _a lot._

The only one who _didn't_ seem faintly disappointed in my choice was Clauda, likely because she's an Imperial and a veteran and understands the value of recon, scouting and generally being a sneaky bastard, unlike those damn brash Nords which I was now technically half of.

We continued on our way, occasionally stopping to pick some flowers and put them in my inventory. It was pretty nice, actually. Walking among nature, hearing the splashes of the nearby river, the faint scent of freshly-hewn pine on the breeze. It gave me a chance to think and plan out my first few steps. As the rock and wooden gate of Riverwood came into view, I glanced to the right, barely making out the entrance to a mine through the trees. That would be my first port of call-well, third after Alvor's place and then wherever I was going to sleep that night because after all the shit I'd been through that day, the thought of any more violence was sickening.

Upon entering the town, we were greeted by an old woman shouting about a dragon, followed by her son, Sven, basically calling her senile. Ah yes, the love triangle between Sven, Camilla and Faendal; that would most definitely come in handy. It had to wait, though, and we marched up the blacksmith's. Alvor was a big bear of a man, busily washing his hands in a barrel of water as a little girl scurried around the forge, dousing the flames and cleaning the bellows. His hair, which was naturally blond, had been dyed almost black by the ash, charcoal and grease that also marked his face.

"Uncle Alvor!" Hadvar called in relief, quickly walking up to the smith pulling him in for a brief man-hug.

"Hadvar?" The smith questioned in pleasant surprise, "What are you doing here, boy? Are you stationed nearby? And who are...they?" He arched a grimy eyebrow at the trio of Stormcloaks standing next to three people in Imperial armor and _not_ screaming war cries while trying to axe each other about the face and neck.

"Too many ears, Uncle, but they're friends," Hadvar replied, patting the man on the shoulder. "Can we come inside?"

"Of course!" Alvor nodded, shouting over his shoulder, "Dorthe! Go tell your mother we have guests!"

As the girl hurried inside, we followed along with her father and I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a blonde woman giving us a subtle stare from the inn.

The home was rather large and cozy, a roaring fire beneath a stone hearth with a pot of merrily bubbling stew dominating the center. An eating area was set to the side, a quaint wooden table with three spots set out among a random scattering of food, dried herbs hanging from the rafters. On the other, a pair of simple but comfortable beds and a wardrobe apiece.

Alvor's wife, Sigrid, was a middle-aged woman who wore no makeup or fancy clothes, and obviously didn't need them to look good. It was also my first time seeing what civilian clothes looked like.

It was a blue bustier top with a matching miniskirt, and a simple yellow apron over that. I could tell she'd helped her husband in the forge more than once, given the nice tone to her arms and legs. "Hadvar? We've been so worried about you! Come, sit and…" She trailed off as the rest of our little group filed in. "…There aren't that many seats."

"Er, Captain?" Hadvar turned to Clauda, offering her both a chair and the chance to explain.

She took a seat with a nod and a sigh, removing her helmet and setting it by her feet. Yadis, Cella, Susin and I posted up around the room, leaning against a railing that led to a basement as Sigrid started ladling servings of hearty stew into simple wooden bowls. "Can I assume Hadvar told you we were posted at Helgen?"

"Aye," Alvor nodded, accepting a bowl of food from his wife.

"Well, we were part of General Tullius' personal retinue. We'd just captured Ulfric Stormcloak and we're about to execute him-thank you," she nodded thankfully as Sigrid served her.

Alvor groaned, leaning into his palm. "I'm guessing by the looks of you that the Rebellion wasn't ended today?"

"No, unfortunately," Clauda replied, sounding very tired. Sigrid arched an eyebrow at me, wiggling a bowl meaningfully. I shook my head before pantomiming biting into an apple. She tossed me one and I bit into it with a satisfying crunch. "We were attacked by a dragon before we could execute Ulfric."

"You would've, if you'd cut his head off first," I chimed in around a mouthful of apple. "Instead of that one guy and then me."

Alvor turned to me with surprised eyes. "You were on the chopping block? What for?"

"Crossing the border at the wrong time, apparently," I shrugged, acting flippant at my near-decapitation despite still being very aware of the dried blood on my neck.

"But a dragon? Are you…?" Sigrid trailed off as we all looked at her and nodded seriously.

"It destroyed Helgen and as far as I can tell, burned it to a husk, along with most of the Imperial forces stationed there," the Captain continued, shaking her head. "It's possible we're the only survivors…in which case, Hadvar and I need to head to Solitude and report."

"And we-" Yadis waved at herself and her two friends, "-may not be Stormcloaks anymore, but we still have family. They need to know of the danger as well."

"I was hoping you'd be able to help us, Uncle," Hadvar chimed in, "Supplies, a place to stay, that sort of thing."

"Of course, anything I can do," Alvor nodded solemnly, his eyes sweeping the room. "There isn't enough room for all of you, but Delphine does owe me a favor. Sigrid, darling, please bring me my quill." She brought him a roll of parchment along with a quill and inkpot, and he began to write out a brief message.

As he did, Sigrid opened the door and pointed down the street. "The Sleeping Giant Inn is just down there," she said, patting the former Stormcloaks as they passed her. "If you need anything, don't be afraid to ask."

The blacksmith dried his message over a candle before rolling it up and handing it to me. "Before you go, someone needs to go to Whiterun and warn the Jarl about the dragons," he said seriously. "We're a simple lumber town. Against a dragon…we're defenseless."

"I gotcha," I nodded, slipping the note into my belt. "Although, it'll take me a few days. I lost all my stuff in Helgen and I need to get replacements. Actually, speaking of, can you make or trade me a few things? Also, it's been some time since I stepped into a forge, can you help me knock the rust off tomorrow?"

He blinked rapidly under my verbal deluge. "Um, sure. What is it you need replaced?"

"Actually, most of it I can get from a general store. But I need a good spear and…" I gave him a searching look. "You take custom jobs?"

"All the time."

"I'll draw up what I want and get it to you tomorrow. Beyond that, I just need some solid steel protection," I knocked the chest plate of my Imperial Iron Armor. "Something a little more sturdy and better fitted."

"An entire suit of armor is a little pricey," Alvor hedged. "Even if you traded in what you were wearing, it wouldn't cover the whole set."

I thought of the mine just outside of town, the iron veins and armed and armored bandits inhabiting it. "What if I brought you the materials? Ore and the like?"

The blacksmith nodded. "It would still take some time, but it would be doable."

"Alright, see you tomorrow," I turned to Clauda and Hadvar, clasping the soldier's hand with a nod. "I expect you'll be leaving in the morning?"

"Aye," the Captain agreed, her voice sullen and her eyes sad. "But you _will_ come to Solitude soon, won't you? We could use someone like you in the Legion…and I still need to make up for my mistake."

"Of course I will," I assured her with a pat on the shoulder, "I'll be by as soon as I can." That was a lie. Although, there were plenty of things I needed to do in Solitude, as a member of the Legion and not. Saying goodbye, I headed down the road and entered the Inn. As it was nighttime, the place was full with workers from the mill, those unwilling to cook for themselves, or those weird people who actually like socializing. The former Stormcloaks were huddled together by the bar where they were talking with Delphine. Before I approached them, I scanned the room, hoping to see someone who'd be a new friend that I could meta the shit out of this world with, but I was disappointed.

"I suppose you have a note for me?" The hidden Blade asked dryly as I trotted up. She had a few crow's feet around her intense, searching icy blue eyes. Beyond that, she had slightly pointed, almost elvish features, and was fit as all hell. Her attire consisted of a brown leather corset, a low-shoulder white tunic, and something that could be described as both a miniskirt and a wide belt. God, she could be such a bitch, but her help would be invaluable. And when it stopped being invaluable, well…she was gonna _get Touched._

Wow, that gave me some uncomfortable vibes. "Right here."

Delphine unrolled the parchment, eyes scanning the words quickly before narrowing slightly. "Alright, Alvor vouches for you. I've only got two rooms free right now, so you'll have to double up. He's covered your meals as well, if you want anything," she explained, crossing her arms.

"Can I have a serving of whatever's cooking and a tankard of mead?" I asked, jerking my thumb at the pots slung over the long fire pit, getting a nod from the woman. Turning to the Nord trio, I nodded at one of the rooms. "You guys can figure out who sleeps where, alright? I'm gonna retire for the night."

"I'll-" Cella began, only to be pulled into a furiously whispered discussion by the other two. Shaking my head and chalking it up to 'women stuff,' I headed for the room only to pause and look down the building. Sven strummed a lute, winking at a blushing Camilla Valerius while a scowling Wood Elf, Faendal, scowled in the background. I would see to them soon, oh yes. Very _soon._

As in tomorrow.

Closing the door behind me, I stored all my armor and weapons in my inventory, pulling on a wool tunic from the wardrobe before sitting on the edge of the bed, if it could be called that. A wooden frame with slats stretched between, covered in hay for cushions and skins for sheets and blankets, and a straw-stuffed sack for a pillow. I could sleep on it, for sure, but a better bed was something I'd search for in the future. I was already missing my Full size from home and it hadn't even been a day.

And that brought other things I missed, along with a painful realization. Whatever that god was, he said he'd brought me here to throw me into Skyrim for his amusement.

He never said he'd send me back.

It took all the effort I could muster to not cry. As much as I had problems with my parents and sisters, I still loved them dearly. I'd never get to see Leah's wedding, or Sissy's graduation, or Amore's first teenage rebellion. Never get to see my uncles and aunts, my grandparents and my cousins. The only one who didn't sting the most was my grandmother on my mom's side. She'd been dead for nearly two years, and I still missed her just as much as I did on Earth.

The door opened and Delphine stepped inside with a tray. She must've seen my emotions on my face, because her eyes softened slightly and after she set my food down on the side table, she patted my shoulder. It was a tad awkward, we'd met just minutes ago, but I appreciated the sentiment.

She left silently and I pulled myself together, grabbing my food and chowing down. It was a bowl of tomato soup with chunks of potato and chicken bobbing gently in the broth, along with a heel of chewy bread and a tankard of cold mead. The heartiness of the meal was just what I needed, the warmth of the soup dulling the sting of my loss and heady buzz of the mead soothed it away.

Setting my spoon aside, I leaned back on the bed and pulled the Spell Tome: Flames, out of my inventory. You never got to read the tomes in Skyrim, they just vanished as soon as you used them. Now that I was in the world of their creation, who knows what kind of amazing magical, metaphysical knowledge these books contained? Maybe I would learn something, amazing, almost world-shattering about the existence of _fire itself_?

It was a beginner spell, but still.

Excitement burning in my veins, appropriately, I cracked the book open and began to read. The first line said, ' _Fire can be quite hot.'_ Then, with a crack, the book crumbled into dust that seeped into my skin, beyond my flesh, and into my soul. And I knew I could cast the spell.

What. The actual. _Fuck._ 'Fire can be hot?!' No _SHIT_! Water is also wet, and ice is cold! Wow, I'm so fucking _**mystical**_ _now!_

Taking a deep breath, I tried to reign in my anger and concentrate on the fact that I'd just learned a magic spell, bitches. Opening the menu, I went to magic and equipped the Flames spell. As soon as I closed it, I could feel pleasantly warm tingles traveling up my arm, and a small ball of fire burned to life in my palm with little encouragement. Giggling, I doused the candle, then lit it again with the fire in my hand. I did that about eighteen times and was tempted to start spraying fire all over while yelling, _**I'm the Firestarter, Twisted Firestarter!**_ But then I remembered I was in a wooden building. Also, screaming like a maniac wasn't generally accepted by normal people.

Eventually, the events of the day and my meal had caught up with me, and I scooted down to lay on the bed and get some sleep. It had been a long day, and it looked like there would be nothing _but_ long days from here on out. As I reached over to extinguish the candle for real that time, the door creaked open and Cella walked in, pushing it shut with her hip. She was carrying two basins of steaming water in her arms that she set on the table. "You finally decided who the bunkmates are?" I asked, making room for her, though she didn't join me.

"We did after a little…conversation," she said carefully, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. "It was decided that I would share this room with you. Can you sit up for me?"

Arching an eyebrow, I did so and she pulled my shirt off. Sharing a room was already going to be awkward, even more so without my shirt. "What are you doing?" I asked incredulously, as she soaped up a cloth and began to scrub my cheeks. "Seriously."

"You weren't going to sleep while you're all dirty, are you?" she replied, rubbing the dried blood from my neck and moving down my arm.

"Honestly, I forgot about it," I shrugged, resisting the urge to squirm as her calloused fingers traced down my skin. "Uh, why are _you_ cleaning me?"

She hummed a gentle tune as she cleaned my torso, rinsing the rag a few times before she was satisfied with my cleanliness. Nodding to herself, Cella dipped the cloth again before stripping her armor off, and it was quite a sight to see as what appeared to be a mail bra and skirt set with a tabard turned into a full suit of mail and quilted cloth as soon as it hit the floor, but not as quite the sight as the warrior before me in her underwear. Smirking at the stunned look on my face, she put the cloth in my hand before sitting on my lap, a mere foot of space between us. "Now clean _me_ ," she said breathily, her eyes glittering in the candlelight.

Not like I was going to refuse. Feeling a bit of sweat on my temples, I carefully washed the dirt, blood and sweat away from her smooth skin that was marked by small scars. And when she tossed her bra aside and leaned back to give me the room to clean her very, very nice breasts, I gulped audibly. She hummed pleasurably as I slowly wiped her bosom clean, cooing quietly when the cooling rag brushed her hard brown nipples.

"Done," I said, licking my dry lips. Setting the rag aside, Cella leaned forward…and hugged me tightly. She sighed shakily, trembling slightly as I wrapped my arms around her. "…Cella?"

"We came so close to dying today," she murmured into my ear, breath ragged. "I've been in battle several times, I've killed and nearly died…but today…today was a slaughter. The stench of burning flesh…the roar of that dragon as it screamed overhead…the heat of its fire…"

I shook myself, the images burning in my mind. I'd been trying not to think about it, partly because I had shit to do, but also because I'd vented quite a bit of it when I screamed half my lungs out and gibbered uncontrollably. "We survived, though," I said quietly, rubbing her back. All the previous sexual tension I'd felt had been drained away, leaving just a girl in my arms seeking comfort. "You're alive, I'm alive. We live to see another day."

"How can you be sure, though?" Cella asked, rubbing her cheek against the side of my neck. "How do you know we weren't roasted alive and this is just the final dream as we breathe our last?"

"You can feel my heartbeat, can't you?" I pressed her cheek to mine, my hand resting on her neck, her pulse pounding beneath her skin. "I feel yours."

"…I need to feel more," she whispered, drawing back slightly before crushing her lips against mine. There's more than a little desperation in her kiss, her hands nearly scrabbling up my back to clutch my hair. My fingers rub her spine and then she pulls back, stepping away and stripping her underwear off, followed by her tugging mine away. "Hold on," the former Stormcloak breathes, grabbing the rag and quickly scrubbing between her legs, than mine, before pushing me on my back and swiftly impaling herself on my length.

It wasn't the first time I'd had sex. I'd fooled around with a few girls at school, never anything serious besides my two month long relationship with a sweet girl who moved away, but not before we traded virginities. But as Cella kissed me again, her hips moving with a frantic frequency, moaning into my mouth while I gripped her thighs and drove up into her velvet vice, my previous sexual interactions faded. So did my thoughts of home, my worries about the future and the subtle dread of tomorrow.

It was just me and a girl, reassuring ourselves that we were alive.

We reassured each other at least four times that night.

…

I woke the next day with a groan while wondering why, exactly, I was awake, only to find that my bed partner was gone. "Cella?" I asked blearily, blinking.

Fully dressed, the former Stormcloak leaned over me, her lips gentle. "We have to go," she said sorrowfully, brushing the back of her hand over my cheek. "We need to warn our families…but we will see you again, I promise."

"I'm going to Solitude pretty soon," I replied, stroking her hand. "Head that way after you're done, and we'll meet again in no time."

"I'll hold you to that," Cella whispered, kissing me again. "Get some more rest. Talos guide you."

I fell asleep after that, and I'm not sure how long it was but the sun had risen. Donning my armor and carrying my dishes, I set them on the counter in front of the owner of the Inn, Orgnar, a simple Nord man with few worries. "Do you mind if I use your Alchemy Table?" I asked, nodding at the stone table with glass tubes and shit strewn about it.

"Go ahead, just clean up when you're done," he grunted, sweeping the dishes into a basin. "You want any food?"

"Please," I nodded, before a thought occurred. "I'll be back in just a second."

I made a quick circle of Riverwood, picking all the thistle, hanging moss, flowers and a few mushrooms that I could find, including a few bundles of wheat. Then I walked down the river a bit, just out of sight of the town, and opened my menu. I had no idea how it would work from the menu, but there was no way in hell I was going to physically _eat_ fucking flowers, eggs, _**spider**_ _eggs,_ moss and bone meal. I'd hurl the instant I'd try.

So, menu open and ingredients page up, I went down the list and 'ate' one of everything. Nothing happened besides a few noises, the screen blurring slightly and several notifications popping up in my vision. Feeling pretty good about my short-cut away from eating nasty shit, I closed the menu.

And I immediately tasted several things all at once. Some were pleasant, others were bland, some were spicy but the majority was completely _fucking_ _ **horrible**_.

I hurled. Violently. And more than once. Heaving and hacking, I bent over and shoved my head into the clear, cold river, spitting and shaking my head furiously to get the taste out before I started gulping mouthfuls. Withdrawing my head, I breathed easy. Then my stomach gurgled and I vomited again.

After about three cycles of that shit, I rolled on my back, staring up at the cloudy sky and groaning pitifully. My health and stamina bars hadn't appeared so I was technically at full strength, but I still felt like complete shit. Calling on my healing spell, I cast it for a minute straight, the soothing tinkle and warmth doing a world of good for my aching stomach.

That shit over with, I returned to the Inn and scarfed down my breakfast, then I got to work at the Alchemy Table. Well, I tapped it and suddenly my view switched to behind my head as my body automatically went through the motions of doing Alchemy, which was beyond fucking weird but whatever, anything to do less work. Poisons were more costly and thus would make me more money, but it's fucking _me_ , here, and I needed all the health I could get. I had enough to make five health potions, two stamina and five magicka, and a poison resist because there was a big-ass spider in my future. Using what was left, I made two potions of Resist Frost and one Damage Stamina Poison.

 **Alchemy: 20**

The drums and chanting rang triumphantly in my head and I left the Alchemy menu for my Level Up menu where the map should be. Instantly, my vision blurred until I was looking at the colored nebulae and constellations. I selected Stamina for my first upgrade, for the upgrade to my carrying weight, and then went straight to Sneak. I had two points to spend, one of which I dumped into Sneak, making sneaking around more effective, and the other into Archery. With the Thief Stone, I got more experience being all sneaky and shit and that would give me more openings to shoot shit, which give more experience because I was being sneaky doing it. Win-win. The next point would go to Smithing.

As I pulled back from the table, cracking my knuckles, I noticed a plain black book almost hidden behind an alembic. Opening it up, the first page read 'Fantasy Followers,' then had a list of names, creatures and places I could find them. Fuckin' sweet! I only really wanted the Flame Atronach for…reasons, but I would've looked for the others, including a _mini-Dragon_ apparently.

I left the Inn and headed for the blacksmith, but not to forge anything. I took my bear pelt, turned it into a few pieces of leather, then turned that into leather strips. Then I smelted down the iron swords I'd looted from Helgen. It wasn't much, but any bit helped. I also sketched out my design and left it for Alvor to take a look at.

There was nothing else I could do to procrastinate, so I sacked up and headed up the road towards the mine. Then I remembered I had no arrows, so I turned right back around and bought twenty iron arrows from Alvor. I could pick up more as I went, hopefully. And something better than my longbow.

As I approached the mine, I stopped and ducked into the brush, taking the leather strips I'd made and tying down the clankier pieces of my heavy armor. Hopefully, it would help with sneaking until I could get a Muffle enchantment.

Rolling my shoulders, I exhaled roughly. It was time to put my life on the line again. It was time to kill again.

Drawing my bow, I nocked an arrow and peered out of the brush at the high rock wall, the entrance to the mine snug in a crevice. Leaning against a wooden post stood a bandit, clad in leather wielding a sword and a shield. A _female_ bandit. My Touch charges had been restored after I slept, and that meant I now had an opening. Shouldering my bow, I stood up and walked into sight with my hands up. "Ho there!" I called, trying to remember if that's how people greeted strangers in medieval times or if I'd just pointed out a prostitute.

"That's close enough!" She barked with a Nordic accent, drawing her steel sword and holding it out warningly.

"Easy, easy!" I said quickly, waving my empty hands. "I'm just a traveler looking for Riverwood, and I got lost in the woods. I _just_ want directions!"

Her head tilted curiously, and a smirk crossed her lips. "Alright, I can tell you," she began, setting her shield down but leaving her sword bare. "But it'll cost you, say, twenty gold."

"I…really?" I asked incredulously. Not because I thought that was a high amount, you see, but because she went for extortion instead of immediately attacking. "Alright, fine, here." I pulled a handful of gold and equipped the Touch.

She stepped forward eagerly, her knuckles whitening on the hilt of her sword, and I dropped the gold on the ground. She gasped, lunging for the shimmering coins, and I caught her wrist.

"You're my friend now," I said calmly, the tingles letting me know it was working. "You'll trust me, follow me, and do what I say, though you are still your own person, obviously. Sound good?"

Releasing her arm, the bandit staggered back, blinking rapidly. "You…yes, that sounds good, my friend," she smiled bending down to pick up the dropped gold and hand it back to me. "So, what are we going to do?" Her hair was blonde, cut into a tall mohawk with single braid on the left side of her face. A stripe of war paint the color of dried blood crossed her eyes, bringing out the blue. Her armor was leather except for a metal shoulder pad, and cut so that a wide valley of her tan cleavage was bare. Her legs were encased in fur up to the thigh, along with the apparently customary mini-skirt.

"Well, let's go down into the mine, get three more ladies to join us, kill everyone else then loot the place to the bedrock," I said with a shrug. "How about that?"

"Excellent, I hate the people here!" Her smile was bright and bloodthirsty, her sword shining with intent.

"Good," I nodded, before remembering that I needed to build my skills, and that she probably had a name. "What's your name, by the way? Mine's Saul…us."

She giggled, batting her eyelashes at me. "I'm Nada, remember? We've been friends for years!"

"Of course I do," I replied, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Now, here's the plan: When we go in, I want you to find a bandit and send them up this way to relieve you. I'll kill them, then who ever else is down there, and we can take it from there."

"Ah," Nada pouted, and I got the feeling that her oddly girly mannerisms were going to creep me out the longer we were together, given the way she petted her sword like it was a dog. "I won't get to kill anyone?"

"Not just yet, but stick with me and you'll see all the bodies you want," I promised. And the unfortunate, or fortunate part, I guess, was that I was dead right. "Let's go."

The dirt passage was steep, lit only by the light filtering in through the cracks of the door and torches on the wide wooden beams that held the rock cliff up. I snagged two of them as we passed before crouching behind a cart full of logs. "Go ahead," I nodded further down the passage where a pair of masculine voices drifted up.

"Gotcha," she winked before striding off with an enthusiastic swing to her hips. Shouts echoed back and I pulled my Steel Dagger from my inventory and held it tightly as a pair of footsteps began to move in my direction.

"Bitch took the torches!" A male grumbled as he trudged up the incline, an iron axe at his waist. I inhaled sharply as he passed me by before I lunged out of my cover, trapping his face in my elbow. Before he could react beyond a muffled shout, I pulled his head back and jammed my dagger through his throat, ripping it out the front with a spray of blood riding on a ragged wheeze.

He dropped to the ground, spasmed once, and died.

 **Sneak: 17**

I looted the few gold coins he had, his axe and his armor. The axe could be broken down into more iron or used as a backup weapon, and his armor could be traded or made into leather, win-win. Leaving the corpse there, I descended into the mine, grabbing the mushrooms as I passed and stopped when I came to a wooden walkway. Another bandit lay on a sleeping bag next to a fire, while Nada stood in a clear section that was well-lit.

Drawing my bow and nocking an arrow, I took aim at his back and loosed…and cursed when the arrow slipped, skinned my forefinger, and hit the bandit in the shoulder instead of the neck. He rolled to his feet, swearing, and I nocked another arrow before loosing it. This one struck him in the hollow of his throat and he clutched at the wooden shaft before slowly collapsing to the ground.

 **Archery: 17**

Sighing in relief, I moved to his body and took his equipment, including a pair of lockpicks, but not my arrow, as the bastard had snapped it when he fell, harvested the nearby shrooms, then grabbed a nearby pickaxe and approached the iron vein. Reaching out, I tapped it with my finger and again, my view was pulled back as my body went through the motions of tapping the rock with the pick for about thirty seconds. I was notified that I'd gained three iron ore before it stopped and I was in control again. My back was a little sore, but otherwise I was fine.

Making to join Nada, I stopped to grab a bag of coins next to a skeleton trapped to the hips in collapsed earth and mined another vein. There was nothing of value where she was, except for a lever to drop the bridge. "Nada, go out there and I'll drop the bridge," I ordered, "Distract whoever comes out and I'll pick one of them off. You can take the other."

"Finally," she muttered, trotting through the cave to stand where I'd pointed as I pulled the lever, then ducked out of the light and readied another arrow. Two men came jogging across the bridge, their voices angry as they saw the woman standing there. I sighted, held my breath, and loosed. And again, I cursed as the shaft skinned my forefinger since there wasn't any goddamned guard to stop it.

My arrow struck one bandit through the ear and he pitched to the side, clattering on the bridge. The other turned with a shout of, "What was-?!" when Nada drew her sword and stuck him through the back with no hesitation.

"Your death," she crowed, pushing him off her blade with a snicker. Joining her, she wiped her blade on her miniskirt.

"Here, carry this," I handed her the mace one of the bandits had wielded, along with the studded armor. "We'll sell it later." I pulled my arrow out of the corpse and rolled it for goods before heading across the bridge and deeper into the mines.

"There's a bitch up ahead, guarding our loot," the former bandit warned, tapping her hilt. "Want me to shank her?"

I shook my head, "Nah, I'll hide and you bring her this way then I'll get her to join us."

Nada grumbled but nodded, stepping forward as I hid in a rocky alcove, my fingers tingling in anticipation. "Hey, we need help! Hurry up!" She shouted, and I heard a muffled curse before a rapid pair of footsteps came my way. As it grew close, I stuck my leg out and the woman Nada had lured tripped over it and ate shit on the dirt floor.

I grabbed her flailing ankle and said, "You're my friend now! You trust me, you'll follow, still your own person, okay?" She stilled before groaning, rolling over and blinking at me. I held a hand out and hauled her up, getting a better look at her in the process. And she looked _exactly_ like Nada; from the hair, the war paint, even her eyes were the same! The only difference is that this bandit wore hide armor, which looked like a small, poorly laced-up leather vest with a leather shoulder pad and a bikini made of fur.

"Ow, yes," she rubbed her head. "Did you have to trip me?"

"Just checking your reflexes," I lied with a chuckle. "You know how many other people there are in here?" I asked, harvesting a few mushrooms before heading for the locked door, dropping to my knees and bringing up the lock-picking interface.

"Three others, two women and a guy," she said quickly, "Do…you want the key?"

"Nope." I unlocked the lock, then turned to the other door right behind me. It didn't lead me anywhere, but it _was_ locked and I needed the experience.

 **Lockpicking: 17**

"Let's leave the loot here for now, and go clear the place out," I nodded towards the rest of the mine. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Clyra," bandit lady number 2 replied, fingering her Steel Axe. "A-are we gonna kill the others?"

"The guy, not the ladies," I replied, internally wondering how that would sound to someone outside of my situation. Probably sexist, though…I'm getting them on my side so that they can fight with me and watch my back. Is that still sexist or not? I'm not sure. "Can you get one of them back here? I'll bring her to our side, then I'll try and snipe the dude, and the last one I need you two to pin. Can you do that?"

"Sure can!" Nada grinned while Clyra nodded in relief. She headed off while I snuck behind, stopping in a stretch of the mine that was only lit by torches, torches that I took. The passage was plunged into darkness, and I hid behind a bracing log.

" _-what? Can it wait?"_ A gruff voice echoed, followed by an annoyed grunt. Heavy steps came my way, and stopped as the voice spoke again. "And the damn torches are out, great." The footsteps resumed and as a shape passed me in the darkness, I leaned out and grabbed it by the arm, my fingers sinking into warm skin.

"You're my friend, you trust me, you'll follow me, you'll do what I say but be your own person," I rattled off in a quick whisper. "Also, tell me your name."

"It-it's Fulgor," she stammered, shaking her head. "Oh hey, haven't seen you in a long time. What're you doing here?"

 **Alteration: 21**

"Gonna steal everything," I said bluntly, inwardly tamping down my surprise. The Touch is a magical thing? Makes sense it would be Alteration. "Now, after I shoot the last guy, you, Nada and Clyra are going to pin the last girl, okay?"

"Okay," Fulgor shrugged, clanking slightly as she followed me. The mine opened up into a wide cavern with a waterfall on the far side, a bridge spanning between the walls. A guy with a bow slung over his shoulder strode across the bridge while Clyra waited by a forge that sat near a large pond, her eyes flickering nervously.

I drew and took aim, waiting for the other archer to stop moving. He finally stopped at the end, looking down into the pond, and I let fly. The arrow flew through the air, arcing gently…and sank into his knee. "Argh!" He shouted, collapsing to his knees. Drawing quickly, I shot again and that arrow pierced his skull and mercifully ended him.

 **Archery: 18**

 **Sneak: 18**

The drums and chanting rolled but at that point, I felt like a real bastard. I hadn't just shot the guy, I'd meme'd him. There can be no worse fate than that. At least he didn't survive to tell people about his adventuring days. That was the most merciful end I could've given him.

Footsteps thundered past me as Nada, Fulgor and Clyra rushed up the rocky incline towards the last person who hadn't been touched in the entire mine. A lithe Wood Elf gaped at them in surprise, before quickly drawing a pair of daggers. It was pretty amazing to watch, actually, this elfen chick spinning like a living blender as two lightly-armored ladies with shields tried to box her in. Then Fulgor, wearing full Iron Armor (which explained the clanking) simply pushed past them and bodily tackled the elf to the dirt.

The elf wriggled like an eel as I approached, but the much larger woman pinning her arms behind her head had her stuck. The elve's eyes went wide as I came to them, her struggles increasing until I touched my tingling fingers to her arm and rattled off my list. "We're friends, trust me, follow me, own person, etc."

The elf stopped, blinking up at me dazedly, and the armored woman let her up. "Oh, I guess it's time to steal everything, then?" She asked, shaking her head. "Alright! I was so bored!"

"Excellent," I nodded, heaving Fulgor to her feet. "Speaking of, grab everything of value, including the bedrolls, bring it to me and then we'll head out."

With various levels of excitement, my four new ladies split up and began to loot. Meanwhile, I found every ore vein I could, mined the shit out of them, took the ore that had already been mined, read and collected the 'Light Armor Forging' book, which bumped my Smithing up to 21 and reminded me that I had a level; I selected health and sunk the point into Smithing, giving me access to Steel and Bonemold smithing, and as a bonus I was really damn close to level three.

Then I grabbed the money, a small handful of gems, a few coin purses and a couple baked potatoes, grilled leeks and salmon because I was damn hungry. There were some herbs and a few alchemical ingredients, which I also took, before turning to the archer I'd accidentally meme'd. Bowing in sorrow, I pulled my arrows out, took the quiver off his back as well as his bow. It was still wooden, but curved and with a proper grip. I switched it out for my longbow, grabbed his steel axe, then went up to the exit and waited.

It took a bit, but eventually the girls came back. Fulgor was lugging a greatsword and a warhammer on her shoulders while carrying a sack full of stuff, while Nada and Clyra had coin purses dangling from their belts.

After counting it all out, it came up to about half an armory in iron weapons, not counting the weapons they used, along with five sets of leather armor, studded and otherwise, three hundred Septims, three garnets, two amethysts, one ruby, twenty-six iron ore, several handfuls of mushrooms, a Spell Tome: Clairvoyance, a set of enchanted Hide Bracers and one magicka potion.

As a bonus, all the mining I did had pushed my Smithing to twenty-two and subsequently, gave me level four. With that, I upgraded Magicka, grabbed the first perk in both Restoration and One-Handed. Despite my success with the mine, there was no doubt in my mind that everything wouldn't go that easily.

All in all, not bad for a few hours work.

"Alright, I'm heading in to Riverwood," I started as we walked out of the mines. "Do any of you have a bounty on you?"

"Not really," Fulgor grunted, along with nods from the others.

"Well, I'm going to be busy for the rest of the day, so you can do whatever as long as it's close by," I said, waving at the surrounding area. Then, I pointed at the distant black rock arches of the mountain-top barrow. "And tomorrow, we're going there."

"Bleak Falls Barrow?" Nada asked and for the first time since I met her an hour ago, she actually sounded nervous. "Are you sure?"

"Yep," I replied bluntly. "Fulla bandits and draugr. Gonna be fun."

"Might as well come with you, then," the armored woman grunted, heading to the road to Riverwood. It was a short walk, with the others heading off to do their own thing while I made a beeline for the forge where Alvor was grinding away at a sword.

"Got what you needed?" He asked, stepping away from the wheel and setting the sword aside. At my nod, he tapped his chin. "Tell you what, since you said you were rusty, why don't you forge me an iron dagger? Let's see what your skills are like."

I took the offered pieces and stepped up the forge, once again enjoying the fucking weird sensation of swooping out of my body to watch myself forge as the menu opened up. It took me but a second to craft a dagger and exit the menu. "Here you are."

"Pretty good, pretty good," he muttered, stroking his beard. "A little dull, though. Sharpen it up a bit for me."

Again, just a second to sit at the grinding wheel and sharpen the dagger. He then had me make a Hide Helmet and adjust the fit of that, the usual stuff, before hauling a stack of five steel ingots onto the bench.

"These are for you," he said, patting the metal bars. "It's all I can afford to give away, but I'll trade you for whatever else you need at a discount. As for your forging skills, I think you're doing just fine, and armor that you make yourself is always more comfortable."

"Fair enough," I shrugged, trading him most of the iron weapons I'd looted, along with a few sets of leather armor, which got me a few more steel ingots. I turned the remainder of the looted armor into leather and leather strips, then got to forging. Thanks to my perk point, I could craft steel, so I made the armor first. It, and the simple crafting I'd just done before, immediately bumped my Smithing skill up to twenty-three and leveled me up as well, so I paused to go to my perk menu. There, I sunk the point into Block and upgraded my health. With that, plus my One-Handed and Restoration perks meant I'd be able to deal with what came tomorrow with some level of competence.

I had just enough to forge a Steel helm, the one without the horns because, despite how cool I would've looked and felt wearing it, those would be really dangerous to bring into combat. And after that, I used the rest to make a pair of Nordic Steel gauntlets but was left with Iron boots.

Exiting the forge and finding myself _very_ sweaty, I equipped my new steel armor and immediately felt better about myself. The fur inner lining brushed away a chill I didn't know I felt and the quiet clank of armor, while I needed to fix it, was comforting. I felt secure in my protection, ready to take on the next challenge.

"That's a fine set of armor you've crafted for yourself," Alvor nodded approvingly, reaching behind his table for cloth-wrapped bundle and a long stick with a pointed metal end. The spear was made of oak, sanded smooth with leather wrapped midway up the shaft as a grip, with a four-pointed steel head, like an arrow had been duplicated then merged, and smaller spike at the butt. "This is yours. Took me a bit to adjust it to your height, but it should work just fine."

True enough, I'd been about a head taller than every Nord I'd met, the only outlier being Fulgor. The tip of the spear brought the height of the weapon to seven feet even, six inches taller than myself. I tapped the butt on the floor, feeling the subtle vibrations traveling up the sturdy wooden shaft. Oh yeah, I could impale some people on this bitch. "Feels good," I nodded, flexing my fingers on the grip. "Feels very good."

"Excellent," the blacksmith nodded, preening a bit under my appreciation, before beginning to unwrap the second object. The rough cloth fell away to reveal a sword, but unlike any I'd seen in Skyrim. Well, there was a resemblance, swords look like swords. But this one was a tad shorter, the blade just under two and a half feet, a bit wider than most with a blood-channel down the center. The guard was stubby and rounded, the grip made of simple leather, and the pommel a polished orb of steel. "It's similar to swords I've made before, but the construction is a bit different. What did you call this type of blade?"

"A gladius," I replied distractedly, reaching over and taking it from his offering hands. It was hefty, solid as anything made of metal should be, but a bit more so than a regular Steel Sword. The balance was a tad off on the back, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with a bit of leather and a metal ring, but otherwise it felt _very_ nice in my hands. Giving it a little spin, the blade cut the air with a satisfying whistle. Sheathing it and tying it to my belt, I held my hand out for Alvor to shake. "Thank you very much, Alvor. I'm heading out tomorrow to Riverwood, so it might be awhile before we meet each other again."

A notification popped up in my vision. **Learned Recipes: Iron Spear, Iron Gladius, Steel Spear, Steel Gladius.**

"Any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of mine," Alvor nodded and shook my hand. "If you need anything else, I'll do my best to help you. And before you go, make sure to check in with Lucan Valerius at the Riverwood Trader, get stocked up on potions and whatnot."

"Will do," I left with a nod, but went right past the trader and headed down to the river. Despite the obvious pushing for the quest, I needed to do a few things before I headed in there. One, I had more ingredients to eat, mostly the mushrooms I'd collected while spelunking, as well as a few ingredients in said cave. Two, I'd been collecting every flower I'd seen while I went, so I had a few more potions to make.

After eating one of each from the menu again, it wasn't as bad as the first time. The mushrooms tasted like mushrooms. I headed back into the in and crafted a couple more health, stamina and magicka potions, and a couple more resist fire and frost before stepping back out and walking towards the mill. On the way, I ran into the bard from the night before, Sven. "Excuse me, bard?" He gave me a disdainful look for reasons I'm not sure of, but didn't walk away. "Do you know who that lovely woman and the Wood Elf are? They're such a lovely couple, I wanted to congratulate them."

"They aren't a couple," the bard retorted hotly, crossing his arms. "Faendal _thinks_ he can woo Camilla Valerius away from me, but she's already mine. I keep telling him, but he keeps trying."

"Oh?" I asked innocently. "You like the same girl?"

"She knows I'm the best man in Riverwood," Sven replied, scoffing. "That elf is dreaming if he thinks he has a chance with her. I've seen him sneaking into the Riverwood Trader when I'm not around. He's wasting his time."

"Sounds persistent," I noted with a nod. "You aren't worried about it, at all? He may wear her down one day."

Sven scowled, before furrowing his brows in thought. "You may be right," he said, quickly pulling out a piece of parchment and writing down a letter. "Here, take this. It's full of venomous nonsense, just give it to Camilla and tell her it's from Faendal."

"Will do," I walked towards the trader keeping an eye over my shoulder to watch the bard stride off with a skip in his step before circling around the building and heading for the mill proper. Faendal was chopping away at firewood, though he heard me coming and set his axe aside to give me a curious look.

"Can I help you?" And although he gave a much better first impression, I still wasn't going to help him, exactly.

"Faendal, right?" At his nod, I pulled out the letter and handed it to him. "Sven gave me this and told me to give to Camilla Valerius and tell her it was from you." Because two men can't fight over the same woman without passing notes like it's fuggin' kindergarten instead of a bare-knuckle cage match like _real_ men.

"What is that blowhard up to _now_?" The elf muttered, taking the letter and quickly scanning it. "Well, if that's how he wants to play it, let's see how he likes it." He pulled a piece of paper from his vest and quickly wrote something down. "Here, take this to Camilla and tell her it's from Sven. See if she ever wants to see him again after _that_."

With a reassuring wink, I finally made my way to the Riverwood Trader and walked right in the middle of an argument. "Well, one of us has to do _something!_ " A frustrated female voice said, followed immediately by a gruff rebuttal.

"I said _no!_ No adventures, no theatrics and no _thief-chasing!_ " The man replied, scowling over the counter at his sister, her obstinate expression matching his.

Throwing her hands up in frustration, Camilla retorted, "Well what are you going to do about then, huh? Let's hear it!"

Lucan crossed his arms and turned away. "We are _done_ talking about this." He said firmly, and they both jumped as the door closed behind me. "Oh, a customer! Sorry you had to hear that."

His sister huffed and stomped to the fire, poking it with a vengeance, which did little to hide the embarrassed redness in her cheeks. "Something happen?" I asked curiously, approaching the counter.

Also a bit pink in the cheeks, Lucan scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "W-well yeah, we did have a…a bit of a break-in. They only took one thing, a solid gold ornament in the shape of a dragon's claw."

"I could help you get the claw back," I offered with a shrug.

The trader perked up slightly, a pleased expression on his face. "You could? I've got some gold coming in from my last shipment. It's yours if you get my claw back."

I opened my mouth to agree, when I noticed an odd-looking backpack sitting innocently on the shelf behind him. "What's that?" I asked.

Lucan peered around at the item. "Oh, that's something a traveling merchant gave me a while back, called it 'The Adventurer's Best Friend.' No one's wanted it so far, I almost forgot I had it."

Adventurer's Best Friend? Sign me the fuck up! "In exchange for the claw, would you be willing to give me that in return?" I pointed at the pack, feeling an odd tension in my gut. I needed that damn thing for reasons unknown.

"Sure!" The trader agreed enthusiastically. "I'll even give you a discount when you bring my claw back."

"So this is your plan, Lucan?" Camilla asked, in a tone that was either sarcastic or actually interested, I couldn't tell.

"Yes," her brother replied with satisfaction. "Now you don't have to go, do you?"

"Oh really?" his sister said, "Well, I think our new helper here needs a guide."

Lucan spluttered, flailing inelegantly. "Wh-no…I…fine! By the Eight, fine." He sighed, cupping his face before stabbing his finger at her like a spear. "But only to the edge of town!"

Smirking victoriously, Camilla winked at me and flounced out the door, stopping to point up at the barrow in the distance. "We'll have to go through town and cross the bridge to get there, but you can see it from here, on the mountain over the buildings." She shook her head as she strode down the road with me in tow. "Those thieves must be mad, hiding out up there. That place is filled traps, trolls, and who knows what else!"

Faendal walked by us, his eyes curious, and I gave him a secretive nod.

"I wonder why they only stole the claw?" She mused to herself as we passed the inn. "We have other things that are worth just as much coin. Lucan got the claw a year after he opened shop here, but he never said where. My brother's a tricky one."

I hummed noncommittally and we reached the bridge over the river. Camilla reiterated her directions and made to leave, but I stopped her. "Before you go, this is for you," I presented her the letter, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Oh, uh, thank you," she said, looking pleasantly surprised. "I mean, we just met-"

"It's not from me," I cut across quickly, thrusting it at her. "It's from Sven."

"Oh, another poem, I bet," it might've been my imagination, but she looked a little disappointed that it wasn't a letter from me. "He does have a way with words…" She scanned quickly, before flushing in anger. "What?! If that oaf thinks I'll stay at home, washing his clothes and raising his children, I'll-!"

"It's from Faendal," I interrupted again, and she blinked at me in shock. "He gave it to me to give to you and tell you it was from Sven…after Sven gave me a similar letter to give to you and say it was from Faendal."

Camilla looked from the letter in her hands, then at Riverwood, then back at the letter. Huffing, she scrunched it up into a ball and chucked it in the water. "If that's the way they think they'll win my heart, by insulting me in the guise of the other, see if I ever talk to them again!" She pouted, leaning against the rock bridge. "I'm not happy, but I appreciate your honesty, stranger."

"Saulus," I replied, patting her arm. "Think of it this way; when you confront them about it, they might realize they have more in common than they thought. Maybe then they'll stop circling each other like ornery mudcrabs. But…no reason to let them sweat a little, eh?"

She giggled. "Indeed," Camilla agreed, brushing passed me as she walked back to the store. "Lucan and I will be eagerly awaiting your return," she added, a flirty smile on her lips.

I watched her go, before heading back in myself and finding Faendal. "I don't think she'll be talking to Sven anytime soon," I said in greeting. _Or you_ , I thought.

"That's excellent news!" The elf smiled, handing me a handful of gold coins. "Here, take this. It's some gold I've saved up from working at the mill."

"Thank you," I nodded, jingling the Septims in my palm. "But…how much would you take for a little Archery training?"

And that was how I spent the rest of my day. Faendal helped me with my arms, my stance, both crouching and standing up, and gave me a few pointers. It was only when I hit the bullseye on a target fifty feet away that I heard the quick roll of drums.

 **Archery: 19**

So, training my skills would give me experience? Interesting…

By the time night had fallen, I'd increased my Archery skill to twenty-three, and almost had enough to hit level six. But I was also tired and sore as all hell. I hit the Inn, gave my new minions some coin so they could get rooms, then ate and settled in for the night.

I didn't have any visitors that night. Even if I did, I doubt I would've been able to do much.

…

I woke up the next morning, pulled on my armor and then I made a note to get some regular clothes for myself. Armor's secure and all, but being in it constantly would cause some chafing in places I didn't want to be chafed. The ladies were awake and I realized, to my surprise, that the tall, muscular, greyish-green skinned woman known as Fulgor was actually an orc under her helmet. She had strong features, narrow eyes and fangs jutting up from her bottom lip, but they were more cute then intimidating. And her Iron Armor was, to put it bluntly, a bikini. A pair of iron plates cupped her breasts with rough leather going over her shoulders to another plate between her shoulders. The bottom was a bikini bottom with more iron covering her thighs that led down to knee-high boots.

"Finally awake?" She grunted, tearing a large bite out of a loaf of bread.

"Yup. The others up too?" I asked, cutting a butt of bread in half, laying it on the warm stones near the fire before layering a slice of cheese and mutton on it.

"Been awake for a while," Fulgor replied, downing a mug of ale. "Noticed you've got new armor. You buy it from the blacksmith?"

"Smithed it myself, actually," I said, waiting for the cheese to melt before putting the halves back together and taking a bite out of my toasty sandwich. It was no BLT, but it was pretty damn good. After a minute of silence, I looked up at the armored Orc woman. She was staring at me. "What?"

"You smith?" She asked in surprise. "What you've got there is pretty good."

"I do, and thanks," I nodded, finishing off my sandwich and drinking from a pitcher of fresh water. "Alright, let's get going." Fulgor donned her helmet and followed me out, and I equipped my spear as we went, the butt spike pinging off the rocky ground.

When we got to the bridge, Nada, Clyra and the Wood Elf chick were waiting around, jumping to their feet as we approached. "Finally!" Nada called, stretching her arms above her head, which did very interesting things to her chest. "Let's go kill something!"

I lead them across the bridge and began to climb up the mountain. "I'm going first," I said over my shoulder, my bow slung loosely on my back. "Stay behind me a bit. If I need help, well, you'll see it."

The bloodthirsty Nord let out a theatrical groan behind me and continued to grumble as we climbed. A few minutes up the slope, I heard a threatening growl above me. Whipping my head up, I found a pair slavering, wide-open jaws rushing for my face. Instinctively, I ducked. And whimpered a little. But I didn't pee myself, so there's that.

A weight hit me with wet, crunchy sound and I stumbled back, a high-pitched whine slowly petering out as the weight went limp. Throwing it off me, I saw that the wolf had died via impalement through the chest with my spear. When I'd ducked, I'd brought the tip up and its momentum and weight had done the rest. Lucky me.

Yanking my spear out, I tapped the carcass and took the skin before continuing on. Despite my half-Nord heritage, the icy fog flowing down the mountain chilled me, and the rising snow on the ground didn't help. My spear served very well as a walking stick, and I only slipped once or twice going up.

It wasn't long before Riverwood below had shrunk to the size of a bunch of wooden toasters and ahead of us, a tower loomed out of the mist. Storing my spear and drawing my bow, I crouched and crept up near the building, though I clanked quite a bit as I went. I could see a bandit leaning against a tree outside of the tower, but at that distance I couldn't make out what they were. I nocked an arrow, drew and fired.

It hit the tree beside the bandit and I stood in plain sight, drawing another arrow. Hefting a greatsword, the bandit charged me with a yell, my next arrow barely missing her arm and I could see that it was, in fact, a she. As she closed the distance, I unequipped my bow, equipped my shield and ducked as she loosed a wild swung. She ran stomach first into my shield and I lifted her up and over, dumping her on her back. Reaching down, I grabbed her arm and Touched her. "You're my friend now! Follow and trust me, as your own person! Gah!" I stumbled forward as my armor went _ping!_

 **Heavy Armor: 21**

Spinning around, I saw that another bandit, also a woman, had fired an arrow at me and was loading another. Ducking behind my shield, it jerked against my arm as the shot embedded in the wood. Dropping my shield, I equipped my bow to return fire but before I could even grab an arrow, one was already flying, hitting the bandit in the shoulder and spinning her around.

With an opening like that, I grabbed my shield and charged up the hill to the tower and the bridge where the archer was kneeling, clutching her shoulder and cursing. As she saw me, she pulled an iron dagger from her belt and brandished it at me with a snarl. I lunged forward, driving the edge of my shield into her wrist, the dagger flying from her slack grip. As she howled in pain, I grabbed her unwounded shoulder and Touched her.

As she calmed down, I handed her a health potion and pulled the arrow from her wound. "Are there any others?" I asked.

"Many," she replied with a sigh of relief as her wounds closed. "There's another at the top of the tower, but she's not the brightest."

"Thanks," I pulled her to her feet and entered the tower, snagging a gold purse from a nearby table before making for the second floor. I paused as I entered, my hand on my gladius, but I saw no one around. Stepping carefully on the snowy wooden floor, I peered around for the third bandit, only to hear a whooshing noise.

Spinning around, my vision was filled with an armored form dropping on top of my chest, driving me to the ground and cracking something, if the noise from my ribs and the sudden drop in health was any clue. I had just enough time to wheeze out my air before the person on my chest drew their axe back and swung it at my face. I threw an arm up, gasping in pain as the blade bit deep, going through my armor to gouge my skin.

Acting quickly, I threw my other hand up and grasped the arm holding the axe. "Friend!" I wheezed. "Trust! Follow! Person!"

The person stiffened and withdrew the axe from my forearm. "Hey Saulus," she greeted, making no moves to help me up. "Get up, you milkdrinker. A little axe drop and you're on your back? Pathetic."

"Fuck…off," I panted, pulling my healing spell to both my hands and double-fisting it. My health, nearly half-way gone, creeped back up.

 **Restoration: 21**

And then I hit level six. Hauling myself up, I shook my head and checked the bracer on my right arm, the one I'd used to shield my face from the axe. The blade had put four inch gash in the metal, just a few inches away from my wrist. I glared at the Nord woman, who seemed completely unaffected. "I just forged this yesterday, you bitch," I growled, picking up my dropped shield and sword.

"Who cares? You done crying, cunt?" She sneered, hands on her hips.

I was tempted, oh so tempted, to tell her to stay still while I slit her throat because I was _not in the mood for_ _ **bitchiness**_ , but that would've been a waste of a Touch charge. Instead, I went to the perk menu, upgraded my stamina, and sank one point into Speech with the other going to Archery, adding thirty percent more damage to my shots. "Whatever," I grunted, quickly looting the place. There wasn't much, only a handful of coins, a few lockpicks, and stamina potion. Turning to Bitchy, as I thus dubbed her, I jerked my head towards the bottom of the tower. "Let's go."

She followed me down, where six other ladies waited. I had quite the squad coming along, with Nada and Clyra, Nords with shields, Fulgor, the orc with the heavy armor and warhammer, the Wood Elf chick with the bow, and now Bitchy the Nord with the axe and shield, a Redguard woman with a greatsword, and what I think was an Imperial with the bow.

"How many are up ahead?" I asked, walking up to the group and patting the Wood Elf on the shoulder. "Great shot, by the way…"

"Alena," she nodded with a cheery smile, very at odds with her black eyes and war paint that resembled bloody tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Twenty eight, give or take whoever's in the barrow, idiot," Bitchy replied to my question, leaning against the tree. "Don't you know how large this operation is?"

Twenty-eight was a lot more than I remembered there being in the game, but this was real life. Random shit like that was going to happen more often, and I had to be prepared. "Alright, here's the plan," I began, slinging my bow on my shoulder. "Alena, Imperial-"

"My name's-"

I cut her off before she could tell me. "We're about to fight twenty people, give or take. Eight of us. Survive this, and then you can tell me your name," I said harshly. To be fair to myself, I had just been bushwhacked by a bitch, so I was a bit irritable. "We three are going to get as close as we can and pick off as many as we can. When they come charging at us, the rest of you join us and we'll fight it out. Okay?"

A round of nods followed along with a dispassionate, "Whatever," from Bitchy the Nord. Her attitude forcibly reminded me that although people can trust and follow another as friends, that didn't stop some of them from being complete _assholes._

Snow and rock crunched underfoot as we crept up on the barrow, ancient crumbled arches grasping at the mist like giant, craggy fingers. The barrow itself loomed in the fog, its imposing appearance both a warning and challenge. Enter me if you dare. Survive if you can. As we grew closer, people came into view. Archers walked along the edges of the platform, occasionally stopping to peer into the mist, while others rested around sputtering campfires.

Nocking an arrow, I drew it back and aimed. "Archers first," I whispered, waiting for the tell tale creak of their bowstrings bending. Adjusting my aim just a bit, I loosed, watching the whistling fletching as it sped through the air, strike an archer standing on an outcropping, then seeing her body fall.

 **Sneak: 19**

Another archer fell silently, as did another, her head jerking back before she tumbled off the platform to the snow below. "Wait," I cautioned, nocking but not drawing another arrow, feeling a chill seeping into my bones as the wind howled. A minute later, more figures came to the edges, investigating the disappearances, and I drew. "Now."

Three more arrows flew, and three more died. My target, a Redguard in furs, clutched his throat and the shaft protruding from it, slowly collapsing to his knees and then on his face. Another searcher saw him fall and began screaming, "Attack!"

I quickly drew and fired, but the wind was on his side and arrowhead only ripped his ear from his head instead of sinking into his eye socket. "Here they come," Alena muttered as we stood from our position and launched another fullisade, just to let them know where we were. As the bandits grouped and began to rush down towards us, I noticed that they were actually using tactics.

Four were in front with shields raised, four more in iron and steel behind them, while the rest came behind the vanguard. It was a smart tactic, but it was no phalanx. Lowering my aim, I shot one of the shield-bearers right in the knee and the bandits behind him didn't bother to walk around, just trampling over him in their hurry to get us. As they closed the distance, I put my bow in my inventory, equipped my shield and spear and crouched down. "LADIES!" I shouted, leveling my spear at the charging crowd. "NOW!"

The shield-bearers dropped the pretence of defence and thundered forward, screaming, and I switched my grip on my spear and hurled it, hitting one in the gut instead of the chest like I'd wanted. Alena and the Imperial fired again, one arrow striking a lightly armored screaming woman in the chest while the other skittered off the chest plates of a heavily armored brute.

Then the ground shook slightly as my minions rushed around us, roaring in return. I waited until they'd slammed together to draw my gladius and run in as well, clocking a shield-bearer on the head as I skipped passed her dueling Clyra, allowing my Nord to slash her gut open with her axe then take her head.

I drove my shoulder into the back of a fur-wearing bandit, who recovered quickly and spun around, twin axes singing through the air. They bounced off my quickly-raised shield, sparks flying as metal met metal. I grunted as I was forced to step back, only to plant my feet and lunge forward, trapping the bandit's arms against his chest. As I drew my gladius back to stab, the Nord released a fearsome warcry that made me pause for one brief second. He threw his head forward, and mine snapped back, though I was mostly unharmed due to my helm. His nose, on the other hand, had been crushed through no action of my own.

I stared at him incredulously, then headbutted him back. He stumbled back on his heels, face bloody and I stepped forward to drive my gladius through his stomach, yanking it out to let him fall.

A feminine scream made me whip around right in time to catch a sword on the edge of my shield, the woman wielding it twisting around to yank my arm out of place as she stabbed a dagger at my gut. The blade skidded off my armor, thankfully, but she continued with her spin and lashed out at my head with her foot, my head rocking back from the blow. It was like being attacked by a blender, a constant assault of sword and dagger slashes followed by lightning fast kicks. My armor and shield soaked up most of it, except for a few lucky strikes that slipped under the metal plates and scored thin cuts on my skin, but they were easily ignored.

Such an assault was draining, however, and I didn't have to wait long before she overextended just a bit too much with her kick, and I reminded her that bringing bare feet to a sword fight was a bad idea. I swung my gladius and her foot, no longer attached to her ankle, went flying as she went down with a scream. Another swing opened her throat, just as something slammed into my back.

Spinning, the first berserker I'd thought I'd killed was back on his feet, blood trailing down his unmarked stomach and an empty potion bottle lying in the snow. As he swung his axes, I cursed to myself. It hadn't yet been beaten into me that these were actual people I was fighting, people who could have access to magic and potions. I'd have to make sure they couldn't get back up the first time.

Dodging back, the blades cut the air just in front of my chest plate. As he recovered, I pushed off my back foot and slammed my shield against his stomach, the rancid breath rushing out of his mouth directly in my face. As he stumbled back, I drove my gladius into his stomach again. But this time, as he collapsed to his knees, I brought my shield around and thrust the edge into his throat. The crunch of his trachea collapsing was oddly loud in the chaos of battle.

Turning away from the dying man slumping into the snow, my eyes roamed the battlefield. Despite their greater numbers, my group was actually taking the bandits to task rather handily. We'd picked off at least seven, and a couple more on the charge down.

Alena had jumped on the back of a burly Orc in Fur Armor, screaming shrilly as she stabbed him in the chest over and over again. The Imperial with the bow was still hanging back, loosing arrows into the melee. Nada, weapon and shield locked with a Breton woman (I think) jumped back as a missile lodged in her enemy's throat, moving on to flank a heavily armored Nord.

But I couldn't observe for long. Heavy steps crunched the rocky ground, the previous cover of snow pounded away by boots and bodies. A wall of Steel-clad Nordic muscle thundered towards me, warhammer cocked back for a mountain-rocking swing. I threw myself forward, rolling under his strike and rising to my feet with a wide swing. My gladius sliced through the thick leather padding under the steel plates and drew blood, but if it actually hurt, the heavy didn't show it.

He spun around rather fast for such a big man, lashing out with his spiked pommel. My block faltered slightly and he pushed forward, driving the shaft of his hammer into my chest. I stumbled back on the snow-soaked rock and he lunged forward, Horned Steel Helm filling my vision before it crashed against my armored skull.

It was a lot more effective than the other guy.

My ears rang and my vision blurred, but even through that I could see him winding up for the mother of all swings. The pose and stance were picture perfect, putting his substantial strength and the power of physics into the head of his hammer.

It was all could do I throw my shield up to tank the blow.

 **Heavy Armor: 22**

Sometimes, back on Earth, I'd imagine what it'd be like to get hit by a car. After that, I knew.

I heard a lot of cracks and I felt a lot of pain. The ground disappeared from under my feet and reappeared a second later as it slammed into my back and I rolled, my arm screaming in agony. I scrambled to my feet even as my lungs begged for air and I wheezed as I sucked in a huge breath, snow and icy wind tearing at my throat.

My arm and my shield were a mess. I'd managed to get it fully up, but the strength of the blow had dented the steel and splintered the wood. My arm was bent at an odd angle, a shard of bone peeking through my flesh. I would've loved to have been able to clutch my injury and roll around on the ground, screaming my head off, but looking up, the big Nord was casually walking towards me with assured steps, like some kind of fucking medival Terminator.

My health bar was at one third and my heart was pounding painfully. I couldn't take another hit like that, or even a weaker one. And half-kneeling in the snow, clutching my broken arm wasn't going to help with that.

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed a leather strap that had been knocked loose from the blow, and pulled it tight. The bone went back into my flesh with a noise I'd rather not recall, my vision flashed red and I tasted blood in my mouth, but the spike of pain gave me clarity. I grabbed my gladius, bared my teeth and gestured for that big bearded bitch to bring it.

There seemed to be a shine of approval, maybe, in his eyes as he gripped his warhammer and stepped forward.

It had occurred to me, just as he'd hit me with his hammer, a fairly shitty place for sudden realization, that he completely outclassed me. I wasn't stronger than him, I wasn't tankier, and he was obviously far more skilled with his hammer than I was with my gladius.

He outclassed me on the physical side. But not on the magical.

As he came forth, hammer swinging back, I switched my gladius over to my shield hand, summoned my magicka and let the sparks fly. Purple lightning surged from my fingertips and struck the armored heavy, crackling light dancing over his armor-clad body. He roared painfully, staggering to a stop before collapsing to his knees, twitching and juddering. I lunged forward, slamming the edge of my shield against his helm while grabbing my sword, smashing him in the face again with the backswing before plunging my gladius straight through his throat.

There was a moment of stillness, my bloodied blade sticking out of the back of his neck, the snow falling gently all around us. Then I ripped my sword out and cut his head from his shoulders in one swipe.

 **One-Handed: 21**

I laughed to myself as the bar filled in and the chanting began again. Tempted as I was to just level up and heal myself instantly, I still had a third of my health left and there was fighting to be done. Turning away from the body, I swept my eyes back over the battlefield. My ladies had done well, the bodies of the bandits littering the snow, though a pair remained. A Nord with a shield and heavy armor back-to-back with a Khajit with a spear. They made a pretty good pair, the cat swinging his spear like a staff while the Nord caught attacks on his shield.

They were the last and didn't seem to want to give up, so they had to go. As I marched towards them, I stopped by the guy I'd thrown my spear at. He lay in the bloodied, muddied snow, whimpering quietly as he clutched at the weapon protruding from his belly. I pushed him onto his back and he let out a pained whine, staring up at me with pleading eyes. He was young, about my age, no beard to speak of. Maybe he thought joining up with a bandit gang would be fun, or a quick way to make some easy gold. Maybe he'd killed someone in a brawl or on accident and ran to the outlaws? Whatever his story was, it ended today.

I gripped the shaft of my spear and tugged, the bandit squealing in agony as he clutched at the tip stabbed into him. Planting my foot on his chest, I heaved and tore it out of him with a gush steaming blood. Then I angled it up and thrust it down into his throat. Pulling it out, I switched my grip on my spear and looked at the pair still struggling, judging the distance. Taking a few steps closer, I cocked my arm back and hurled it.

The Khajit's ears perked up as he heard the whistling of my weapon splitting the air and ducked, only realizing his mistake when his partner let out a gurgle and fell with a spear between his shoulder blades. The Imperial with the bow loosed another arrow that sunk into the cat's arm. He stumbled in pain as Fulgor lunged forward and smote him across the chest with her greatsword. He went tumbling to the ground and didn't move.

Instantly, a sense of relief washed over me and I sighed deeply. It was over. Well, this one battle was. Holding my hand out, I equipped Healing and poured power into the spell, soft chimes and golden rings spinning around me. My health filled up and I felt the bones in my arm shift back into place and the bruises spanning my chest fade.

 **Restoration: 22**

"Fulgor!" I called, the Orc looking to me in question. "Come get this steel armor off this guy. Not like he'll need it anymore." She grunted agreement, yanking my spear out of the dead Nord and tossing it to me. Picking over the bodies, I grabbed whatever arrows, gold and potions I could find, along with another steel shield to replace mine, given the large crack running up the middle. I stopped by the Imperial with the bow as she knelt by a corpse, carefully extracting the iron arrows sticking out of it. "So…what's your name?"

She jumped in surprise, the shaft of an arrow snapping as she spun to look at me. "Oh, it's you," she sighed, patting her chest. "I'm still a little jumpy after all that fighting. The name's Classine, but you can call me Classi."

...Well, it was easy to remember, at least. She'd be the first person I'd look to when I thought of a stripper name. 'Classy?' Wow. "You did pretty good with that bow," I said, reaching down and pulling an arrow from the throat of a Wood Elf. "You use anything else?"

"I mean…" She patted the dagger at her hip sheepishly. "I don't like getting close."

"Hmm. Well, we're about to dive into the barrow, and that's not exactly the best place for arrows," I muttered, nudging the Khajit's body aside to grab his spear. It was iron and from the feel of it, not too badly crafted. "You know how to use one of these?"

Classi took the weapon from me, bouncing it in her hands. "...The pointy end goes in the other guy?"

I shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah," my knowledge wasn't exactly vast when it came to spears. Katanas, on the other hand… "How about you stay in the back? Just poke 'em over our shoulders if you've got an opening."

We gathered before the wide stone doors of the Barrow and I got a better look at my group of ladies. Despite our success, no one had come out of it clean. Clyra rubbed at a dark pink scar that had once been a bone-deep gash on her arm, while Nada had half an ear shorn off, and they all had cuts littering their skin. I was surprised that none of them had died more than anything, given that none of them were wearing what I'd call 'actual armor.'

"Here's what's gonna happen," I said, sheathing my sword, storing my shield and equipping my bow, "I'm gonna sneak in there, see who's left, then you'll follow after a minute."

"Why are we pussyfooting around instead of just rushing in?" Bitchy asked, crossing her arms and scowling. "We know we've got the numbers, so why should we bother with this sneaking nonsense?"

'Because I need to level my skills' probably wasn't an answer they'd accept, damn my need to not have mindless minions. "It's a _Nordic Barrow,_ " I replied slowly, as if I thought she was dumb. "It's gonna be filled with traps and Draugr. So I'm gonna scout ahead. Give it two minutes, then follow me in."

With that said, I pushed the doors open wide enough to just slip inside, the stone scraping my armor. Inside, a few bandits and several skeevers lay scattered around, spatters of blood decorating the crumbling ruin. The ceiling rose high, holes spilling white light that did very little to actually brighten up the place.

I took a second to ponder what Bleak Falls must've looked like back when it was freshly constructed. Strong stone walls covered in bold carvings, the rock floor newly polished and the proud pillars nearly glittering in the flickering firelight…a grand sight to behold, I'm sure. And even in the present, there was a grandiosity to the decrepitude, the collapsed arches and pitted ceiling a monument to the inevitable ravages of time.

It also smelled like ass and dead people.

I crept forward, snagging whatever I could get off the bodies, which amounted to a pair of lockpicks, a couple coins and seven skeevers tails, which I was not looking forward to eating.

A pair of bandits chatted by a small fire, talking about a Dark Elf who'd promised riches but had descended into the Barrow with a party and never returned. Apparently, they'd heard nothing of the fighting outside and just wanted to bitch to each other.

Reaching back to grab an arrow, my gauntlet rasped against my pauldron. The grinding of metal on metal might as well have been a gunshot for how loud it was in my ear. The bandits spun around, hands dropping to their weapons.

I drew, nocked and loosed as fast as I could, the arrow lodging in the gut of the lady Nord bandit before I fired off another at her comrade. He staggered back, cursing with my arrow deep in his thigh before I lunged forward, smashing him under the chin with the shield I'd just equipped. She swung at me with a hastily drawn sword and I smacked it aside and rushed into her space, trapping her throat between my arm and chest and squeezing.

She flailed and wriggled like a beached fish, her fingers scrabbling at the metal of my helm, but her struggles slowly lost strength until she went limp. I'd never choked someone out before, not on purpose anyway, so I couldn't be sure I'd done it properly. All I had to do was firmly grasp the back of her head with one hand and her chin with the other, push to the left then quickly pull to the right, and her neck broke with a sound like someone stomping on big hard pretzel.

Even with all the rending of flesh and screaming, there was something oddly detached about killing someone with a weapon or a spell. Up close, ending a life with your own hands? There's something…intimate about it, and obviously not in a good way. Two days before, the most I ever did was get into a few fist fights. And then I was choking out and breaking a woman's neck. I didn't want to think about what would come later.

Turning to the other bandit, I found him flopping on the floor, frantically trying to put out the fire burning his furs. My uppercut had sent him tripping back into the fire pit and apparently dust covered fur is flammable, who knew? I stabbed him in the back before looting the bodies and a nearby chest. The arrows and a handful of gold went into my inventory, though I paused to examine the circlet I'd also looted. It wasn't a Mastercraft or anything, made of copper and set with moonstone, but I thought it might look good with Camilla's auburn hair and soft brown eyes.

In all my time playing and from the day previous, I'd always gotten the impression she was a lady content with where she was, but yearned for a little adventure. And hey, a mysterious, kind adventurer might just fit the bill.

Descending into the barrow, I had to wonder; with just how goddamn big it was, it couldn't have been a barrow forever, right? The place is huge! Not to mention the prominent location. It seemed more like an old city that had been converted into a barrow at some point, but then again Nords are known for honoring their dead a lot.

Cobwebs spanned across the halls, breaking into dust at the lightest touch. I found a few rolls of musty linen, which sparked an idea. Unrolling a bit, I wrapped it around the noiser parts of my armor, crudely muffling it until I could get my hands on the enchantment.

I spied another bandit, a bit better armed than the ones I'd just killed. I watched him walk up to a lever set in the middle of the room, pull it back, and then get riddled with darts. That raised a few questions, like, if Arvel is already down there, then he had to get past that room, which means it should already be open, right? And following that thought, even if the gate closed, wouldn't the pylons still be in place? And finally, crucially, was that bandit just retarded? The answer was literally right in front of his face!

I didn't even have to check the symbols as I twisted the pylons so that carvings lined up as Snake-Snake-Whale. I looted the body then kicked it aside and pulled the lever. To no surprise whatsoever, it opened. I grabbed a health potion from a shelf and continued on.

Immediately ahead of me was a stone table, a black book and a health potion sitting next to a pot. The book was 'Thief' and gave me a point in Pickpocket, which I honestly wasn't sure would ever see any use. Swiping both, I cracked the nearby chest and took the contents, a bit of gold, a petty soul gem along with a pair of minor health potions. The last object, however, made my eyebrows rise in surprise. A Scroll of Volcano, which created a volcanic eruption at the targeted location, which spits out lava bombs that light shit on fire.

Must've been one of the new spells added in. Sweet. Snagging another soul gem, I set off down a spiraling staircase that, despite my best efforts, creaked loudly with every step I took. I heard chattering hisses as the low, ratty grey forms of skeevers bounded up the steps towards me. Holding my shield in front of me, I warded off their lunging attacks and swung at them with my gladius. It only took a hit or two to kill each, adding another point to my One-Handed, and as I grabbed their tails the echoing of chatter came from above; the ladies had just about caught up.

Coming out of the stairs, the room was covered in more webs, those these were too strong to be cobwebs and they pulled to my armor like weak glue. A scroll of fireball and a phial of poison went into my inventory and a voice echoed up through the stone halls. "Is someone coming? Is that you, Harknir? Bjorn? Sorling?" How he even heard me from down a corridor, with a wall in between us while I was sneaking is a question that still eludes me; but I didn't answer, anyways.

The webs were thicker as I descended, and I remembered a small chest behind a thick veil of the stuff. A few steel arrows, a garnet, a little gold and another scroll, this time of Oblivion Unbound, which would drive any summoned creature into a murderous frenzy. Not sure when I'd use it, if ever, but it was valuable so into my pouch it went.

And it was just before an open room, strung wildly with web that I stopped, waiting for the ladies to catch up. While I was sure I could take the big goddamn spider, I sure as hell didn't want to do it alone. As they came down the hall, brushing aside gossamer strands, I gestured for them to be quiet. "Big-ass spider in the next room," I muttered, holding my gladius in my shield hand while summoning flames to my other. "Let's kill it."

Clyra cut the web blocking the door and we stepped inside. Arvel, being trapped as he was, had a lovely view of the huge goddamn spider dropping from a hole in the ceiling, facing us with forelegs raised in challenge. Or greeting, I don't know, I don't speak spider.

Despite knowing it was coming, I still felt a trill of fear go up my spine and Classi let out a shrill shriek. The spider chittered and flexed, a blob of poison-laced goo firing from it's maw. I ducked out of the way and unleashed my fire, the flames licking the blood-splashed chitin as Fulgor charged in, hacking away at it with her warhammer. She stumbled back as it lashed out with its forelegs and Nada jumped forward, tanking a bite with her shield. My magicka ran dry and I drew steel, swinging down on the closest leg. Two hard swings cut through the joint and the spider screeched, flopping in my direction and vomiting another poison blob that splashed over my shield.

 **Block: 24**

That left it open, though, and my ladies took advantage, hacking away at its head and legs until it collapsed, dead. Breathing a little easier, I looted the corpse and all the sundry urns, eggs, web sacs and bodies, ignoring the Dunmer shouting for help.

When I finally approached him, he gave a relieved sigh. "You did it. You killed it. Now, cut me down before anything else shows up." He seemed very comfortable ordering someone who lead a group of badass ladies in slaying a giant goddamn spider.

"Where's the golden claw?" I asked in reply, tapping the pommel of my gladius.

"Yes, the claw!" Arvel said, sounding excited, "I know how it works! The claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories! I know how they all fit together! Help me down and I'll show you! You won't believe the power the Nords have hidden here."

I shrugged and set about cutting him down. "Alright, fine, let's get you out of there."

When the last strand was cut, he dropped to the floor, took a second to orient himself before smirking and taking off down the hall. He _was_ rather swift in body if not mind, I will admit. "Fool!" He called over his shoulder, "I'll never share the treasure with anyone!"

Bitchy made to chase his ass, but I held an arm out and stopped her. "What are you doing, we need that claw!" She bitched, though in a reasonable way.

"We do," I nodded.

"Are we gonna chase him or not?" She demanded, scowling fiercely.

"Probably," I agreed, casually cleaning the clinging webs from my sword.

"So why did you stop me?" Bitchy continued shrewdly, tapping her fingernails against her arm.

I held up a finger and a second later, a pained scream echoed back from where Arvel had disappeared. "That," I replied, equipping my bow. "Hang back a bit, I'm going to check it out."

I followed at a calm pace, clearing out the urns I came across and snagging a soul gem just lying in the open until the halls opened up and shelves lined the walls. Bodies, some wrapped and others bare and still others armored, lay on those shelves. Which would rise as draugr wasn't immediately obvious; or wouldn't be in other tombs but was in this one, given that their weapons were bloodstained.

With the wide halls, I had a good line of sight on the first draugr lying as if asleep and loosed. My arrow sank into its side and the zombie made to rise, bones creaking with the effort, but a second arrow that pierced its chest made it fall back, the light dimming from its eyes.

 **Sneak: 20**

I quickly looked to the sky, the constellations brightening in my sight and I allocated another point to my magicka and sank one perk point into Sneak, making my efforts thirty percent more effective, and the other into Heavy Armor. That made my armor more effective and let me gain a bit of experience with Heavy Armor while wearing two pieces; something I was going to mercilessly take advantage of when I had the chance.

Shaking my head, I came back to my body and continued on, filching whatever goods I could find on the bodies. Creeping around a pillar, I spied another undead standing above Arvel's corpse, gazing dispassionately down at it. I shot it in the back and it spun to face me, hand reaching for the waraxe on its back even as it strode towards me. Then I shot in the face and it collapsed.

A gravelly bark sounded as another draugr rose from its rest to investigate the noise, eyes burning blue as it peered into the shadows of the room. One arrow stabbed into its chest and another into its throat and that one, too, fell, the snap of both my arrows ringing annoyingly in my ears. In fact, the only arrows I could recover were from the first undead I shot, both the others had fallen on them instead. Inconsiderate mummy pricks.

Neither their armor or weapons were worth taking, being only barely better than iron, so I looted Arvel's body. I took the claw, bouncing it in my hand to feel the weight. It wasn't all that heavy, actually, and it looked like it hadn't been polished in years. Pocketing it, I carefully hopped over the pressure plate in the ground and drew on the draugr that was armored in black iron with a weapon on its belt. My arrow punched into the side of its skull, but it continued to sit up even as I sank two more arrows into it.

The draugr growled, drawing its axe with one hand and readying a Frost spell in the other, just in time for another arrow to thud into its eye socket. It dropped to one knee and I shot it again, putting it down for good.

 **Archery: 24**

The bar filled and the chanting sounded, but I resolved to keep the level for an emergency. A sudden boost to my health might be needed later down the line. The stomping of boots on stone came behind as the ladies caught up, and I whirled around to shush them. "There's draugr down here!" I hissed, before noticing that Fulgor was about to step on the pressure plate. "Stop!"

She froze, booted foot hovering above the stone plate with an irritated look on her face. "What?"

"There's a trap right there," I pointed out the wall o' spikes barely hidden in an alcove. "Step on that plate and that's gonna come swinging around like a damn truck!"

"A what?" The Orc asked. I waved her off and she looked at the floor, carefully stepping over the trap.

"Alright, keep quiet and stay back," I said, drawing another arrow.

"What's the point of having a party if we aren't going to fight?" Bitchy asked grumpily.

I gave her an incredulous look. "…We were _just_ in a life-and-death battle like, twenty minutes ago."

"And?" She shrugged.

I rolled my eyes. "Alena, come with me, everyone else, stay here until I give the all-clear." My Bosmer lady crouched by my side, bow in hand and we carefully made our way to the next room, the walls lined with shelves and bodies. Picking out a sleeping draugr, I loosed an arrow at it, followed by another when it made to stand up. Another undead rose and I turned my attention to that, my arrow joined by one of Alena's.

The creaking old bones heralded a gasp from the Elf, who combat-rolled out of the way as a draugr swung at her from behind. This presented an opportunity I'd been waiting for, the reason I'd saved my last charge of the Touch. Reaching out, I grasped the draugr's wrist and said my usual things. "We are now friends, you trust me and will follow my orders!"

The draugr stilled and I readied Flames in my other hand before it nodded at me and spoke in some dry, guttural language that might've been Old Nordic or something, but definitely wasn't Dragon Tongue. The draugr rushed forward and cleaved another undead making to rise with an axe, splitting its skull with a dry crack and coincidentally, bringing it into the light.

On anyone else, the white wrappings tight around her chest and hips would've been very sexy indeed, but on a mummified moving corpse it was just fucking gross. The irony is, I wasn't even looking for a female draugr to test the Touch on, I just didn't think I could sneak up on one fast enough.

With everything else taken care of and a new, rather dry party member, we looted the room. The only real things of value was the gold, any potions that had been on the bodies when they were interred were long spoiled, and a partially hidden chest contained only four gold and a stamina potion.

The exit was a hall filled with swinging blades, which I eyed with trepidation. The blades made sharp, intimidating swishes as they cut the air, the edges gleaming in the low light. "I can take care of it," Alena offered, noting my nervousness.

Sighing, I shook my head. As nice an idea as it was, they wouldn't always be around to take care of my problems. "No, I'll do it, just give me a moment," I replied, bouncing in place and shaking my limbs out. "Alright, I can do this, I can do this, I'm the boss I'm the boss I'm the boss-"

"Just do it already!" Bitchy called, making my eye twitch.

I exhaled sharply, watching the blades swing before I threw myself forward in a dead sprint. I just about felt the air as the last pendulum swung behind me, nearly clipping my ass in the process. I skidded to a stop and fist-pumped. "Yeah, I'm the boss!" I cheered to myself, tugging the chain and disarming the trap. Waving Alena forward, I motioned for the draugr to follow a few steps behind us.

We continued our descent into the barrow, a draugr standing in an alcove directly in front of us. I nailed it once to wake it up and Alena sent it tumbling back into the alcove. Down the hall, another draugr stood but a pair of lanterns and puddle of slick orange oil covered the floor. I loosed an arrow at the undead and he stepped out with a growl. Then I shot the crooked lantern above him and it dropped on his head, shattering in a spray of fire and pottery.

Raspy growls came from down the way, woken by the noise and a pair of the undead came shuffling around the corner. Nocking an arrow, I whistled for their attention and they made to charge us when I loosed the arrow, knocking the second lantern to the oil-slicked floor and setting it aflame. They went charging through the conflagration and dropped in mere seconds, mummified flesh and bone crackling merrily. Apparently they made decent tinder, who knew?

Nature had crept back through the stone, thin roots hanging from the ceiling and packed dirt on the floor. The splashing of water burbled in the open space of the next room, a glacial waterfall tumbling over moss-covered rocks. It was almost picturesque, though the coffins standing on the other side kind of ruined it, especially when one was kicked open and another draugr walked out. I shot it in the chest and Alena shot it in the face, and the body collapsed back against the coffin.

Shouldering my bow, I knelt by the stream and removed my helmet, dipping my hands in the water. The cold hit me like an electric shock, though in a pleasant way, and once it faded I drank deeply. The water was refreshing, refilling an energy I hadn't known was gone. It also made me very aware of two things. One, I had no water skin or bottle or flask or whatever, and I'd definitely need one. And two…I had to pee. Like, _super_ bad.

"Alena," I tapped the Wood Elf on the shoulder and pointed at the chest on the other side of the stream. "Can you grab whatever's in there? I'm gonna go ahead a bit and relieve myself."

"Sure," she nodded and went to do so. I twisted the handle and the gate lifted up, leading into a wide cavern, dotted with small clusters of mushrooms that glowed blue. Stepping over to the stream, I reached down…and realized that I had no zipper. I tried to take my pants off, but that would've required unbuckling two belts, removing three straps and it was too much trouble is what I'm saying.

Instead, I simply unequipped my armor, did my business, then equipped it again. Alena joined me a minute later, after I'd grabbed a few shrooms and was mining the iron from a vein. "Just a minute," I said, feeling very weird indeed, watching my body going through the motions while also talking through my mouth.

She looked at me oddly, then down the path leading to the rest of the tomb. "…Is this really the time for that?" The Bosmer asked carefully.

"Probably not," I acquiesced, scratching the back of my head. "It's useful stuff, you know? I'd feel weird leaving it behind."

"We can just come back after we clear this place," she pointed out, before clicking her tongue and holding out my steel helmet. "You left this back there."

I sheepishly took my helm back and set it on my head. "Thanks. I guess you have a point." I mean, I had people now. Might as well have them work for me. But it also went against all my carefully honed gaming kleptomania skills. Shrugging it off, we followed the stream farther down the cavern, where it opened up, silver sunlight streaming in from above. A lone draugr stood on the natural bridge below us, completely unaware of our presence.

The waterfall splashing right next to it probably helped. My arrow pierced the top of its head, followed by Alena's, and it dropped.

 **Archery: 25**

Opening the chest nearby, I snagged the gold inside and another Scroll of Fireball before we descended a slope and came out onto the bridge. Manfully, I resisted the urge to harvest all the patches of glowing mushrooms and we continued on, the earth rising up and becoming carved stone. We came to a wider room with a door on the other end, half of it collapsed on itself. A draugr prowled about, poking into the shadows.

Together, we drew and shot it in the back. It spun around and took another pair of arrows to the chest, though mine clinked off its black metal armor. It stumbled but shook its head and hobbled towards us, and we put it down with another round of arrows. I knelt and fiddled with the lock of a nearby chest, cursing as my first lockpick snapped in my hands. Moving a little more carefully, I found the sweet spot and unlocked it, but the satisfaction didn't last. There was only a stamina potion and a bundle of arrows.

Continuing through the iron-bound door, we crept through halls that dipped and rose, broken pots, urns and braziers dotting the stone corridors until the deadly swish of sharp blades heralded another trapped hallway. Coffins were visible through the pendulous trap, as was a set of wooden stairs.

"There's gotta be draugr in those coffins," I said to her, rubbing my hands together. "Be ready to shoot as soon as I hit the switch."

Exhaling, I waited for the right moment before rushing through the swinging blades. Then the last one clipped me on the ass and I went sprawling into the room with a dismayed yelp. A pair musty growls came from the floor above and the coffin nearest to me had the lid kicked off.

I may have panicked. Just a bit.

Scrambling to my feet, I yanked on the chain and rolled away as a greatsword swung down at my head. The draugr barked at me and an arrow sprouted out of its shoulder. As it stumbled, I drew my gladius and lunged forward, stabbing it just under the ribs before pulling back, spinning on my heel and slashing it across the throat.

An arrow bounced off my chest plates and I spun to face the archers as one rocked back, Alena's shot landing in the draugr's eye. Pain shot through my leg and I dropped to my knees, which didn't help it feel any better, funnily enough.

"Ow!" An arrow had punched through the meat of my thigh, just above the knee. "Mother _-Fucker_!" I lifted my shield just as another arrow was loosed at my head, the edge of it pinging against my helm. Then I heard shuffling steps as another mummified son of a bitch came way, a huge mace in hand, and I was in the worst position to defend against it

Then it stepped in a puddle of orange, iridescent oil, and the spark of an idea flashed in my mind. It would take too long to call my Flames spell to my hand, but I did have my gladius and shield.

Pressing the edge of my sword to the metal rim of my shield, I struck them together and sent an arc of sparks into the puddle. It caught and ignited with a _*Fwoosh*_ and an almost physical wave of heat that made me fall back.

Again, not conducive to the fuckin' arrow sticking out of my leg.

Alena rushed to my side, downing the last draugr with a quick shot. "Hold the shaft steady, I need to break the head off," she said as I gripped the arrow and gritted my teeth while also trying not to think of how horrifying that sentence would be in any other situation. The jerk of the wooden shaft as she snapped the arrowhead off sent shocks of pain through my thigh, but it was nothing compared to the feeling as I pulled it out.

The sound of something sliding through flesh, I discovered, is a hundred times worse when it's your own flesh.

The agony faded as I cast my healing spell and got back to my feet with the Bosmer's help, the muscle spasming like I'd just gotten over a hellish Charlie horse. "Thanks for saving my ass," I muttered, leaning on her narrow shoulders as I stretched my leg out.

"Of course, we're friends," she said earnestly, a gentle smile contrasting her blood-red warpaint. "That was quick thinking with the sparks."

"You could say I had a… _spark_ of inspiration," I snickered to myself.

Alena tilted her head curiously. "The idea struck like lightning?" She offered, and we shared a laugh. There was nothing else in the room, so we went up and crossed to the other side of the room, walking over narrow stone arches that were definitely a safety hazard.

Pushing open a set of doors, a long, ornate arched and carved corridor stretched before us, all signs pointing to 'significant shit about to go down.' "Let's wait for the others to catch up," I said, rolling my neck and shoulders. "I get the feeling we're going to need them."

Something caught in the corner of my eye and turned to look at the carvings on the walls. Then I leaned in closer and brushed the thick layer of dust away to reveal the entirety of the picture. A trio of robed men carried what looked like an ancient Nordic king on a palanquin, staves in one hand with a dog at their feet. On the other side, robed women carried a queen and in the center, a mystical robed woman stood calmly, moths flying all around her. The robed people were repeated in the next carving, except the center was a bearded man with a grim countenance, holding two creepy staves with bird-like skulls on the top. In the third, a different man appeared to be radiating light, a pair of odd curved wings on his arms and what looked like a sideways crescent moon above his head.

And in the fourth carving, the center depicted what was obviously a Dragon Priest, wielding sacrificial daggers in hand and a ring of fire surrounding him.

"…What fucking story are these trying to tell?" I scratched my head, looking down at the murals.

"They're rocks," Fulgor's dry, feminine tone reached my ears. "The story they're telling is that they're hard."

She had a point and I had other things to worry about. Walking up the ringed stone door at the end, I didn't have to look at the golden claw to remember the pattern. Moth-Bear-Owl. I pushed the claw into the keyholes and gave it a firm turn.

Nothing happened. "You sure that's right?" Bitchy asked sarcastically, and I felt heat creep up my neck. Flipping the claw over, I saw that it was actually Bear-Moth-Owl and moved the rings accordingly, pressing it and turning again. The rings spun and the door shifted, displacing centuries worth of dust before it sank into the floor, the stone shuddering under my feet.

The steps leading upwards were dotted with moss and buckled in the center, but even after wethering the years, there was still a sense of a grand, solemn purpose as we ascended into the final cavern of Bleak Falls Barrow. The air was fresh and cold, with a crispness to it that could only come from a waterfall.

A flurry of bats rushed past me and I instinctively covered my face. Dropping my arm, the room was revealed to me. Thick stone columns held up the ceiling, though one had collapsed and crushed a brazier underneath it. Light pierced through a hole above, shining down on a tomb nearly encircled by a massive curved wall, rushing water carving out a circular stream and bringing the entire area into prominence as if to say 'look at what I made!'

And it was impressive as all hell.

Even as I stepped over the small bridge, I could distantly hear chanting and something like a cool breeze was brushing against my…brain? Or soul. Maybe both. Inexorably, my vision turned to the strange, almost brutal runes carved into the stone. The characters writhed and danced, and I understood what they said.

 **Here lies the guardian**

 **Keeper of dragonstone**

 **And a** _ **force**_ **of unending**

 **Rage and darkness**

Light and wind rushed from the characters, whirling around my head like a storm, the glowing characters being the eyes that stared into my brain and whispered into my ear. " _Fus…"_ I whispered, the meaning of the word, of the reality of _Force_ itself imprinting in my mind. Push and pull, magicka burning as a lightning bolt impacts a body, the flesh and bones of an arm rippling as the knuckles met cheek, the air distorting as an explosion flared, wings slamming down as a scaled body cut through the clouds, head tilting down, the wind whistling through the horns as it dove, driving another dragon into the ground with earth erupting all around them. " _Force…"_

My head rocked slightly and I blinked. My vision was still blurry as all hell, so I blinked several more times and my head jerked as someone rapped their knuckles against my helmet. Fulgor gave me a searching look, an eyebrow arched curiously. "You've been staring at that wall for a few minutes, muttering to yourself," she said, knocking my head again. "It's fucking weird."

"Tell me about it," I muttered to myself, pushing my helm up to scratch my temple. My brain felt oddly soothed and agitated, like someone had pulled it out, thrown it against a wall, then gently kneaded it back into shape.

"I _just_ did," Fulgor complained, her dark eyes scanning the carved words. "Can you read this nonsense?"

"Yeah, actually," I nodded, my finger following the characters as I read them aloud. "Here lies the guardian, keeper of Dragonstone and a force of unending rage and darkness."

The heavy stone lid of the crypt was kicked away, landing on the floor with a loud crack. The draugr that pulled himself out was unlike any other we'd seen in the Barrow. He was a good eight inches taller than I was, broader in the shoulders, too, and being dead had done nothing to shrink his powerful muscles.

"...Him?" Fulgor gulped, drawing her warhammer.

"...Yeah," I answered, just as shakily.

The draugr stood, horned helm completing his iron-clad form and swept his eyes over us, eyes that practically _burned_ with magic. Then he drew his axe and pointed it at each of us in turn. _"Unslaad Krosis,"_ he spoke, his voice not unlike the grinding of the stone door as it sank into the ground.

 _'Unending Sorrow,'_ is what he said, and not as an apology. A promise.

The draugr I'd Touched barked aggressively and stepped forward, swinging her axe at him.

The Guardian casually caught the strike on his shield, pulled her arm open and sank his axe into her skull. Within seconds, her body had frosted over, and the Guardian brought his shield around and shattered her.

"Hah!" I shouted as I leapt at him, stabbing my gladius as I came down. The blade sank into the mummified flesh between his neck and shoulder…then he spun on his heel and slammed his shield into my gut.

I went skidding back, my armor scraping against the stone. The ladies released battle cries and charged in, running straight into a problem, namely _each other_. Seven people crowding around one, in a relatively tight arena made for bumping and knocking each other off balance and generally causing trouble. Against an opponent that had zero issues taking advantage.

Nada caught the Guardian's axe on her shield and Clyra made to attack the opening, but got tangled with Bitchy's elbow. The Guardian wielded a shield of the same black metal as all the other ancient Nordic weapons and armor, which might've been some kind of steel or iron but forged differently, or aged differently or whatever. The point is: it was very solid and very heavy. And the Guardian swung it like a fucking buckler.

A _fuck_ -ler, if you will.

Clyra took the hit and went flying back, bouncing painfully off the stone floor as Fulgor swung her hammer down. The draugr caught it under the head with the rim of his shield and yanked the Orc off her feet, sending her crashing into Nada. Before he could finish them off Alena jumped at him, screaming with a dagger in her hand. He caught her on his back, twisted and rolled his shoulders, casually throwing her over the small shelf.

I charged into the Guardian shield-first and locked them together, stabbing at his stomach until a hammer head whistled by my ear and crunched into his shoulder, the shaft knocking against the side of my helm. _"Jesus!"_ I shouted shrilly, "Watch it!"

The draugr growled before throwing his head back and releasing a guttural roar that seemed to shake the earth under my feet. Stumbling, I could barely defend as he swung his shield in a wide arc, pushing us back before he slammed his axe into the ground, releasing a creeping wave of frost. Nada jumped at him, landing awkwardly on the iced floor and falling on her face.

The Redguard woman swung her greatsword with a yell and the draugr knelt, deflecting the strike with the horns on his helm before carving a long gash in her stomach with his axe. Undeterred, she growled and struck again, but the Guardian caught the blade on his shield twisted it around to trap it under his arm. He cleaved at her neck, fixing to take her head off and she ducked right into his knee. Her head rocked back and the draugr uncorked a kick straight to her chest, sending her sailing sans sword.

"C'mere bitch!" Bitchy shouted, landing heavily on the Guardian's back. "Get him!" I lunged in and the draugr shook himself like a dog, my gladius cutting into her arm and bouncing off his armor.

"Sorry!"

Reaching around, the draugr hooked the back of his axe into Bitchy's armor, pulling her off, slamming her to the floor, then swinging her around to sweep Nada and Clyra off their feet before bodily hurling her at me.

I didn't step out of the way fast enough and she hit my shoulder, sending both of us spinning to the ground. "Asshole," she grumbled breathlessly, "Coulda caught me…"

Pushing myself up, my eyes locked on the black iron axe, trailing frost as it cut through the air. I needed to take it out if the fight for us to have any chance of winning. Pulling my own axe from my belt, I winged it at the back of the Guardian's head. "Hey asshole!" I called as it bounced off his helm with an almost comical _Bong!_

Slowly, he turned his furiously burning gaze on me, his grey teeth cracking as he clenched his jaw. I pointed my gladius at him, then waved it at myself, the universal signal for 'come at me bro.'

He obliged and I dashed forward, catching his overhead swing on the wooden part of my shield. Then I locked it in place with my hand, shouting, "Now!"

Screaming, Clyra charged the draugr and locked their shields together, hacking away at every inch she could reach with her axe while Classi stood behind her, stabbing out with her spear. But her inexperience with the long weapon showed when she misjudged the angle of her attack and carved a wide furrow into Clyra's cheek. "Sorry!" She squeaked, "I'm sorry!"

Off-balance by sudden pain in her face, the Nord was unable to react in time as the Guardian kicked her in the chest, sending them both tumbling to the dirt below. He turned his full attention to me, stomping on my foot and, despite my efforts, yanking our connected axe and shield out of my grasp. Then he brought his shield around and drove the edge into my chest.

For the second time that day, my feet left the ground and my breath left my lungs as something inside me cracked.

A pair of arms wrapped around my waist an instant before I slammed into someone and my momentum carried us back, but we didn't fall.

Gasping for air, I looked down at the arms clutching me, then over my shoulder into Bitchy's scared brown eyes.

Then I heard a deep inhale, the crackle of ancient lungs filling with air and I spun around. I saw the Guardian, head held back, arms back to open the chest up, ribs flexing under black iron armor. _**"FUS…"**_

 _"Shit!"_ I screamed, hurriedly turning to grab Bitchy by the shoulder.

 _ **"-ROH-DAH!"**_

I heaved and threw us out of the way, but the rippling wave of pure kinetic force still clipped my side and we went spinning into the unforgiving stone of the Word Wall, hitting it chest-first with the extra weight of the Nord woman on my back. And for the second time in under ten seconds, my breath rushed out of my body.

I collapsed on top of her, desperately trying to breathe but it was like my lungs had seized, refusing to pull in oxygen despite my desperation. All I could do was choke raggedly. Then her fist came around and drove into my stomach. Air rushed out of, then into my lungs and my vision blurred. I heard shouting and felt her arms wrap tightly around me, and I blinked hard.

Through a haze of red, I watched as the Guardian smote Clyra across the chest with our conjoined shield and axe, hard enough that the inches-thick layer of ice shattered, fist-sized chunks raining down around his feet. My eyes followed the crystals as they bounced off the stone, glittering in the white light shining through the ceiling. And then they saw all the melting ice, the shattered draugr and the circle of frost that had remained when the Guardian slammed his axe down.

And an idea struck.

My vision flashed red again and I hazarded a look at my health, which had a terrifyingly small amount left. I uncorked a healing potion and drank it down before pulling up my healing spell; while I did, Nada threw herself at the Guardian as the Redguard dove for her sword. The draugr threw himself back, sending the Nord stumbling and barely able to raise her shield as he followed through and swung his axe. She went spinning, her shield flying out of her hand and blood flying from the bone-deep gash on her arm.

The Redguard roared, pulling her sword free and spinning on her heel, adding momentum to her strike. It flew under the draugr's guard and hit his knee, dropping him. She pulled it back, heaved it over her head and brought it crashing down…onto his shield. The blade cut into the black metal and caught. He yanked her in and drove his helmeted head into her bare face, her head rocking back, leaving her open as he stood and drove a vicious knee into her gut. As she reflexively bowed over, his shield swung up.

The edge caught her under the chin and her head snapped back with a startlingly loud crack. She flew back, off the stone and into the dirt where she lay, unmoving.

Clyra charged in with her axe raised and the Guardian knelt, almost casually rolling her over his back and onto the ground. He stomped on her chest and brought his weapon back when Alena came in screaming, slashing wildly with her dagger. The draugr dodged the first few, then parried another with something approaching indifference. As she spun to unleash a powerful cut, he gave his axe a shallow twirl and Alena screamed again, a peal of agony tearing from her throat as her dagger went flying from her hand, along with two of her fingers.

He kicked her in the stomach and she bounced off the stone dais, disappearing from my vision.

Flames broiled to life in my hands and I shot a stream of hungry fire at his face with a yell, while directing another at his feet. I poured fire on him for seconds straight, almost until my magicka ran dry. I barely saw the blade cutting through the air and I hopped back with a yelp as his axe cut through the air my hand had just occupied.

An enraged roar echoed through the cavern as Fulgor charged him, her eyes practically glowing red as she swung her warhammer with the speed and strength as if she were holding a broom. Her assault drove the Guardian back a few steps until he was almost back against the tomb he'd occupied before he caught his balance. He caught her hammer on his shield and pulled it against him, his helm cracking against hers as he slammed them together. Stunned, she was aware enough to bring her hammer up as he swung down, catching the axe on the shaft of her weapon. She didn't see when he slammed the edge of his shield into her stomach and yanked the hammer from her grasp, bringing his axe up and cleaving down into the junction of her neck and shoulder.

There was a disturbing squelch as the blade caught on her collarbone, followed by an even worse noise as he kicked her away and pulled his axe free. As he turned to me, I shot another stream of fire at his face but he barely reacted, subtle orange runes on his helm flaring.

It was then that I realized it was also enchanted.

Classi jumped on the edge of the tomb, yelling raggedly as she stabbed down at him with her spear. He flinched as the head dug into his neck and hunched, pulling her off-balance before spinning, sweeping her legs out from under her with his shield. The Imperial fell, hitting the edge of the tomb with a sickening crack before tumbling inside.

But I used the time she bought me wisely. I threw myself at his back, ignoring the pain in my chest as I scrambled to find purchase with my fingers. "Come on!" I grunted, digging into the side of his head with my hands. I managed to hook them underneath and ripped it from his head, throwing it somewhere in the cavern.

He shook and I slipped, his elbow shooting up to nail me in the face. I rocked back and he threw me from his back, sending me rolling across the floor. Dazed, as I peered up at him as he stepped towards me, only for a cry to come from behind me. "No!" Bitchy shouted desperately, springing over my prone form, "Don't touch him!"

The Guardian floored her with his shield then kicked her from the dias. He turned his gaze towards me and stomped forward, the puddle under his boot splashing up, but I had no magicka.

Then I turned my gaze upward.

My vision blurred and I floated before the constellations. I put the point into my magicka, then sunk the perk into the base of the Destruction tree, the one that let me combine and fire the same Novice spell for more damage.

I came back to the world as the Guardian stepped into the center of the puddle. I brought my hands up and cupped them, sending a barrage of purple lightning into the water splashing about his ankles.

Harsh crackling filled the air as the draugr shuddered, electricity angrily dancing up and down his body. The skin around his joints, thin and dry from mummification, caught fire and smoke poured from him.

I sank every last bit of magicka into that spell, finally letting up when I could loose no more of my power.

The Guardian stood unsteadily, his eyes flickering as the magic animating his body fought to remain. And still, he wasn't dead.

Fulgor's hammer lay at my feet and I took it up, swinging it at his bottom half. "JUST-" His legs, snapped off at the knee, went flying and he collapsed on his face, struggling to push himself up. " _-FUCKING-"_ I heaved the hammer up over my head, my muscles straining as I poured my strength into the swing. " _ **-DIE!"**_

The hammer came crashing down and his skull imploded in a spray of ancient bone and brain.

 **Two-Handed: 21**

I dropped the hammer, and the body collapsed on its side, finally dead for good. My breath came in heaves as I stared at the corpse, my body shaking from a mixture of terror, relief, adrenaline and most importantly… _victory._

"RrrrRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA_ _ **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"**_ I roared my success to the heavens, clenched fists upraised and proudly giving the finger to whatever beings were watching from above. How many times had I nearly died that day, in _that_ fight alone? To the _very first boss?_ " _ **FFFFFUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKK YYYYYYOOOOOOOOUUUUU!"**_

And suddenly, it all left me. Before panic came rushing in. "Ladies?!"

The Redguard lay still, her head at an odd angle and her eyes glassy. Bitchy clutched her head as she pushed herself up, groaning and sobbing pitifully. I ran to her side as she nearly collapsed, cradling her against my shoulder. Gently pulling the Iron Helm from her head, I saw the purple bruise spreading across her forehead and the blood leaking from it. Taking a healing potion from my inventory, I pulled the cork out and held it to her lips. She drank it and sighed in relief, slumping against me as the cuts healed and the bruise faded slightly.

"Are you alright?" I asked softly, cupping her cheek in my hand. She blinked at me, the glaze clearing from her rich brown eyes with every passing second.

"Could use another," she pleaded, and I fed her another potion. The bruise looked weeks old, yellow and mottled and while it was not pretty, it was a far cry from how it had looked before. "Thank you."

"Thank _you,_ " I replied, stroking her cheek with a thumb. "You caught me." Had she not, I would've been wide open for that Shout, and I would've been pasted against the Word Wall.

"You pulled me away from that…thing," she returned, a brief smile flickering on her lips. "I suppose that means we're even."

"I didn't catch you," I pointed out, feeling a little ashamed of myself. I'd been thinking of my own life, and I guess that would give me a little leeway with most people. But still, I felt I owed her. With that said, I tilted her chin up and kissed her firmly. She tensed in surprise, but soon her hand came up to rest on the back of my neck, gently pulling me in.

We separated, and the bright pink flush in her face was a little surprising. "Not the time," she said meekly, and I remembered the other injured ladies. Carefully sitting her up against a rock, I brushed a hand against her cheek before turning away.

Then I saw Fulgor sitting in a small divot in the dirt, clutching her shoulder and breathing raggedly. "Shit, Fulgor!" I called, nearly diving for her before realizing that moving her with a gaping wound near her neck was a horrible idea.

Her eyes shook and eventually found mine. "H-hey," she greeted faux-casually, "Got a-any potions?"

I quickly uncorked the strongest health potion I had and poured it down her throat, before plying her with another, and another. After the fourth, she stopped me from giving her another with a strong grip. "You good?" I asked worriedly.

"Yeah," the Orc replied, sitting up under her own power and discarding her helm, rubbing the wicked scar on the junction of her neck and shoulder. "The frost enchantment froze the wound, so I didn't lose too much blood. I just need a few minutes." She glanced at the headless draugr lying on the floor. "What a fight."

"Tell me about it," I agreed, unequipping my helm and slumping down next to her.

"Why would I?" She asked confusedly, "It _just_ happened."

Before I could explain to her that it was an expression where I came from, Alena came stumbling over, an empty potion bottle dropping from her left hand. Her right was wrapped in bandages that, while not bloody, hid the stumps remaining of her pinky and ring finger. She collapsed next to me with a pained groan. "Have I ever told you that I hate draugr?" She groused, gingerly holding her injured limb. "Because I _hate_ draugr."

"Can you still use your hand?" I asked, taking it in my and turning it over. The blade of the axe had carved right through the third knuckle of both fingers, the flesh tinted blue from mild frostbite.

"I can still use my bow," she assured me, leaning against my shoulder. "I'm gonna have to learn how to use a dagger with three fingers, or use my other hand."

"You could find one of those…good healers who can regrow limbs," Clyra added, breathing heavy and clutching her chest as she crawled over. "Anyone got…a potion?" I handed one over and she drank it gratefully, breathing easier as she sat with us and rubbed the pink scar on her cheek. "Where's the Imperial?"

Nada grunted as she emptied a potion bottle and tossed it aside, jerking a thumb over a shoulder at the empty coffin. "Here," she called, reaching and pulling the smaller woman from inside. Classi squealed painfully, tenderly holding her distended shoulder. "Oh suck it up," Nada muttered, unflinchingly popping the joint back in place with a quick push and a fleshy pop. "You got off easy."

"She didn't," I said aloud, looking at the Redguard's body, and silence fell. We helped each other up and stood around her corpse, looking down at her. "How do Redguards get buried?"

"I'unno," Fulgor shrugged, and I got negatives from the rest of the ladies as well. "Should we dump her somewhere?" Her suggestion, while a tad heartless, made sense. We couldn't exactly dig a grave there, especially with no shovels.

"There's an empty tomb by the door, right?" I asked and nudged Alena. She dashed off to check and called back an affirmative. "Well, we _are_ in a Barrow, so…" I pulled out a roll of linen and looked to the ladies, shrugging.

"I don't wanna stand up," Bitchy announced from her spot, still blinking heavily despite the potions.

We stripped her body naked and, using a few linen rolls, carefully and securely wrapped her in cloth. It wasn't the neatest of affairs or the prettiest, but it was all the respect we could afford at the time. Fulgor and Nada brought the lid the Guardian had kicked from his tomb as he rose, and we rolled the Redguard's wrapped body onto it. We carried her on our shoulders like a makeshift coffin to the empty tomb near the stairs to the Claw Door and carefully as we could, set her to rest inside with her greatsword before sealing it.

"Should we say something?" Alena asked curiously. "I don't know how burials usually go."

"Me neither," Fulgor shrugged, eyeing the Bosmer oddly. "I'm surprised you didn't want to eat her."

"W-what?! Why?!" The Elf squeaked shrilly, "I was born in Cyrodil! I don't follow the Green Pact!"

"Does anyone know her name?" I cut across, glancing at the ladies.

Classi spoke up. "Soda," she said solemnly.

I turned a flat stare her direction. "What."

"S-Soda," she replied, flustered. "It's a common name in Hammerfell!"

Unable to reconcile with that, I started off stuttering. "Uh…so, um… _Soda_ …you were a good party member while it lasted. If we'd been just a bit more coordinated and lucky, you would've survived. As it was, you came very close to killing that fucker, so…wherever Redguards go, I think you'll be welcomed." I turned to the others. "Anyone else?"

Fulgor shook her head. "Works for me."

Everyone else agreed, so we left it at that. Patting the tomb, I lead us to the door. "Alright, ladies. If you're up to it, I want you to go back through the Barrow and find anything of worth we might've missed. Also, we didn't hit the camp for the bandits camped outside, so get that as well."

Clyra patted her chest and nodded in satisfaction. "I'm good to go," she said.

"Same," Nada added, before nudging Classi with her elbow. "You're coming."

The Imperial sighed, but nodded in agreement. "I'll make sure they don't miss anything," Alena spoke up, joining the other three as they descended down the steps. "We'll be back in a bit." I watched as they disappeared out of view, confident that with the Barrow cleared of enemies, they'd have an easy time of it.

Heading back to the Word Wall with Fulgor leaning against my side, we found Bitchy sleeping soundly against the rock she was slumped against, though a bit uncomfortably. Withdrawing a set of Fur Armor, I pulled the small cape away and wrapped it around her shoulders and shifted her into a more comfortable spot. As I did that, the Orc woman had walked to the draugr's body and, after withdrawing the head of her hammer from its chest cavity, had set about methodically tearing it to pieces and and tossing it, armor and all, into the pair of burning braziers near the dias.

I watched her work, tempted to crack open the chest and see what was inside, but I was more curious to see what she'd do when she was finished.

Tossing the last bit in, Fulgor went to the closest stream and dipped her hands inside, washing them off before she turned back, pausing to look towards the door. "They're still gone, she's still out of it," she glanced at Bitchy, who was indeed still asleep, then turned to me. Her steps became somehow heavier, her shoulders hunching slightly as her long stride became a confident march that led her coming nose-to-nose with me. I was nearly backed against the chest, gazing into her steel-grey eyes in confusion before she spoke again. "Rut me."

I blinked. "What?" Then I noticed the darkening of her skin, the way she breathed harder, the spark in her eyes that was both extremely arousing and very unnerving.

"Put this-" Her hand came up and rather roughly grabbed my crotch, "-In me. Hard."

I sputtered incomprehensibly for second. "I-isn't this a weird time for that?" I asked incredulously, while another part of my brain was asking ' _why are you trying to dissuade her, dumbass?!'_ "I mean, we nearly died like, twelve times today," I waved a hand at the stairs and the now-filled tomb nearby. "Someone _did_ die." Besides all the other people we killed, but they don't matter.

" _I know,"_ Fulgor growled, hooking her fingers in the collar of my armor and slamming her lips to mine with bruising force. Her tongue invaded my mouth, rampaging in my maw and wrestling with my own slick muscle. Despite the rough treatment, her hand on my crotch was gentle, squeezing and releasing almost like a massage. Then she pulled away and stared me in the eye. "Nothing else gets my blood boiling than a fight to the death won by the skin of my teeth." She pulled on my collar again, pressing our brows together. " _Rut. Me."_

I opened my mouth to say something else, when I stopped and thought. It had been a _long_ day. I'd been shot, nearly been drop-axe'd, took part in a battle against twenty people and killed at least eight of them, one of whom snapped my arm while batting me around like a baseball, choked someone with my bare hands, fought the undead, ran through traps, hacked the leg off a giant spider, watched someone get killed in front of me, nearly watched my entire party die, and nearly died several _fucking times_ in that same fight.

I was stressed beyond belief. I deserved a little relief.

"Fuck yes," I said instead, grabbing her and driving my lips against hers, our skulls bouncing off each other as I gripped her hips and pushed her back. That only served to excite her, and she aggressively nipped at my lip with her tusks even as her back hit the dias.

She pulled her gauntlets off and tossed them away, uncaring of the noise they made as I reached down with both hands, one taking a handful of her muscular thigh while the other gripped a meaty asscheek and dug my fingers into both. Fulgor pulled back, tugging harshly at the collar of my armor. "Off!" She growled, her own fingers fumbling at the plating on her that didn't technically exist.

I unequipped my gear then reached for the metal bikini she wore, easily lifting it over her head and dumping it on the floor. It magically turned into the entire steel chest plate before it hit the ground and I dug my fingers into the bottom half of her armor and yanked it down, taking her panties with it. She kicked it away, then paused to look at my state of undress. "I'm fast, I know," I deadpanned, before hooking my arms under her legs and lifting her onto the dias.

"Better not be fast with anything else," she muttered, reaching down to grasp my cock with a calloused hand. "This'll do."

I stepped in, rubbing my length against her wet lips even as I kissed her tenderly, running my hands down her muscled back. We hadn't known each other long or all that well, but I wanted to show her I was glad she'd survived the day.

She was having none of it.

Fulgor pulled back and glared. "None of that," she hissed, her fingers digging into my shoulders hard enough to draw blood. "In me. _Now._ "

A tad miffed, I pulled back, lined my tip up with her cunt and slammed it home as hard as I could; which I will admit, hurt a bit. "Better?" I grunted, driving up into her, though the angle was somewhat awkward.

"Much!" She agreed, leaning back on the dais, her tits bouncing with every thrust, her stomach muscles flexing under her greyish-green skin. "Harder!"

I put a foot up on the shelf for a better angle, her walls clenching so hard around my length that every thrust felt like a quick battle; her muscles tightened as I plunged inside her, driving as deep as I could go before I withdrew, but then she clamped down on me as if removing my cock was the deepest insult and her cunt wanted to yank it off at the root for my transgression.

Her grunts and mine, along with the obscene slap of flesh meeting flesh was the only sound for minutes, beyond the tumbling waterfalls. All too soon, I felt a familiar pressure building in my groin. To distract myself, I pushed my face into Fulgor's breasts, practically headbutting her sternum with my vigor. "Yes!" She hissed, her nails digging into my scalp. "More!"

Even as I powered into her and fought to pull myself out, my lips found her heaving, rippling breasts, suckling and nipping at the tender flesh, her sweat wetting my face. I couldn't hold on much longer, but her grunts of effort had become moans, her cunt fluttering and grasping at me with a noticeable need. I tracked kisses up her breast with my lips, then found her stiff nipple at the peak and I bit down on it. Not gently.

"Oh!" She cried, throwing her head back, a rainbow of sweat arching from her hair into the dimming light. She clamped down around me like a vice of scorching wet steel, and the only reason I didn't erupt inside of her was because I was mercilessly stomping that impulse like it was a Locust head and I was Marcus Fenix!

And also thinking of un-sexy video games.

Her cunt let up on its death-grip on my cock and she slumped back, panting, leaving me victorious in our imagined duel and free to pull myself out and let loose, splattering my orgasm over the sweat-soaked skin of her stomach.

Between trying to calm my racing heart and soothe my aching lungs, I noticed two things. The paleness of my seed made a stark contrast to the dark coloring of her skin, and it mixed with her sweat and streamed in rivulets down between her legs. The second was that my stamina bar was slowly refilling.

Good to know stamina is good for more than power attacks and sprinting.

Leaning down, I engaged the naked Orc woman in another battle of tongues, her hand reaching between us to grasp my softened length and stroke it back to full strength. As we parted for breath, she grinned challengingly. "You better not be done, for I sure as Oblivion am not," Fulgor muttered, her nails threatening to scratch me.

As I made to reply, we heard another voice speak up. "…Really?" Bitchy asked incredulously, staring at us from her resting spot. "Are you serious? _Here?_ "

"Yes," Fulgor replied bluntly. I shrugged. I wasn't going to argue with the lady with my dick in her hands. "Shut up or go away, we're not done and I don't want any interruptions."

Bitchy, I made a mental note to learn her name, rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'm going back to sleep by the waterfall, where it's quiet!" She called, crawling away behind the Word Wall.

The Orc woman grunted, turning back to me. "Again," she stated, and to her surprise and dismay, I stepped back. " _What are-"_

I grabbed her by the hips and roughly spun her around, knocking a soul gem to the ground, bending her over the dais so that her muscular rear end stuck out at just the right height. And without further ado, I took ahold of her hips, guided myself to her cunt then thrust into her with all of the strength and momentum my position afforded me. The sharp slap my hips made as it slammed into her rear echoed like a thunder-clap, and the wanton moan Fulgor involuntarily released only made me go from rock-hard to having a dick made of pure diamond.

I pistoned in and out of her at full speed, her juices spraying between my thighs, my eyes locked on the fascinating sight of her rear rippling and bouncing with every impact. I wondered if I could make it move more.

Raising a hand, I brought it down on her meaty ass with a sharp crack. The Orc growled, bracing herself against the dias to throw herself back into my thrusts. "More!" she demanded, and I slapped her ass cheek again, watching the ripples spread and bounce back, over and over. And yet, "More!"

I couldn't think of any more I could do, and my strength was already waning…beyond one idea that occurred as I spanked her again and the parting of her cheeks revealed one _other_ entrance. There were more depths to her that had yet to be plumbed.

Sticking my middle finger in my mouth and ignoring the salty tang of sweat and leather, I lathered it with spit before, without warning, I pressed it to her asshole and plunged it in.

Fulgor went taut like a fully-drawn bowstring, a guttural wail tearing its way from her throat as her walls, both sets, clamped down to the point that it was literally painful. I slowly dragged my cock from her lips, and it felt like she was peeling a layer of skin off the whole way. I finally popped out of her with a deluge of juices and her slumping over, all strength gone.

"…More," she panted in exhaustion, the muscles of her ass and back twitching from the aftershocks, and I felt an annoyed energy rush through my veins. What would it take to satisfy this damn woman?!

With that burst of vigor in my veins, I slammed myself back into her cunt and forced another finger into her pulsating asshole, working both my cock and hand in and out of her furiously as she groaned and grunted, her voice scratchy from overwork.

The energy didn't last as long as I'd hoped and minutes into it, I felt my stamina flagging, but I was more than determined to give her all the ' _more'_ she could want! …For the night, anyway.

I reached down, grasped two handfuls of her soaked tits and heaved her up, her back flush against my front. Roughly dragging my tongue across her still-pink scar, I noted her shuddering at the sensation as an opening and like the sneaky bastard I am, I ruthlessly took advantage of it. Sheathing myself to the hilt in her cunt, my fingers dug into her titflesh, my nails pinching her nipples as I opened my mouth and bit down on her scar.

The noise that came from her was not as piercing as the second, but just as satisfying as both that had come before, as was the wild fluttering of her walls on my cock. With both great effort and the desire for symmetry, I withdrew from her and painted her meaty backside with my seed and let her slump forward on the dias. And although my legs were shaking and threatening to buckle, I steeled myself and marched (stumbled) around to her head, roughly grasped her hair and pulled it back. Her jaw hung slack, tongue lolling out as she panted in exhaustion. I hadn't entirely gone soft, and as she stared at me with glazed eyes I pushed my tip between her lips, past her teeth and into her throat.

She gagged wetly and I withdrew quickly, leaving the tip on her tongue. I only wanted to end it with an exclamation, not an ellipsis. "More?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow, trying desperately to hide how badly I wanted to collapse.

Fulgor, though her eyes were glassy, still gave me a deadpan glare and lightly scraped her teeth against the super sensitive head in her mouth. She gave me a final, gentle suck and a tender lick, then spit my cockhead from her mouth. "…For now," she promised, and I resisted the urge to shiver.

"Good…good," I muttered, leaning against the dias with a sigh. Even with the braziers blazing nearby, the sweat and other fluids decorating my skin were rapidly cooling. And the only way to get clean, because Skyrim had a startling lack of wet wipes, was the nearby waterfalls. Waterfalls on top of a mountain. With water of snow run-off. "This is gonna suck."

"I already said I'm done," Fulgor complained, shakily pushing herself up, her arms quaking at the effort. Reaching around, I pulled one of her arms around my shoulder for support. And with the other, I pointed at the waterfall. "Oh. Yeah."

We stumbled to the waterfall, leaning against one another and on more than one occasion, nearly slipping on the dirt. There wasn't any sort of pool, either, so we had to stand under the waterfall as it rained down. And instead of slowly stepping in, acclimating myself to the cold because, honestly, it would've taken a few hours, I boldly walked into the water.

And I would've shrieked if not for sheer cold stealing my breath. Scrubbing myself didn't take long, in part because I wanted to get out of the cold immediately, but also because I'd started shivering thirty seconds in to the shower and I got a lot of use out of the scrubbing action of my shuddering hands.

Mostly clean, Fulgor and I sat on the dias between the merrily blazing braziers, wrapped in furs as we dried. That was where the other ladies found us, still damp and naked, huddling together and occasionally shivering. "…What did you two do?" Alena asked, taking in the scattered iron armor and our nudeness.

"Got clean," Fulgor grunted, scooting closer to press more into my side. At their incredulous looks, she arched an eyebrow. "You wanna sleep as you are after the day we've had?"

Classi shifted the wooden pallet carried between her and Nada and sniffed herself, recoiling in disgust. "You have a point," she grumbled, eyeing the waterfall nervously.

Speaking of pallets, I noticed that the pair of them weren't the only ones carrying something. Both had flat stacks of wood on their shoulders, carrying a pile of furs and roughspun bags on top. "What've you got there?"

"We raided the camp and found a bunch of supplies!" Clyra explained happily, unloading her burden on the stone floor. "There were tents, bedrolls and plenty of food. Also some loot." She pulled open sack to show apples, salted meat, bread and a few vegetables stuffed inside.

"We can set these pallets up on the floor over here," Alena said, waving to the space next to the Word Wall. Said pallets were simple wooden constructs meant to keep the sleeper off the cold ground and while not a box spring mattress, had more give than the stone floor. Pallets were better than a stone floor, and a stone floor was better than the dirt. "I was thinking we could push them together, pile the furs on top of them and then throw our bedrolls on top of that."

Hell, that sounded downright pleasant. "Alright, two of you go get clean while the rest of us set up our sleeping area for the night," I ordered, stepping out from under the fur and equipping a set of simple linen clothes. No way was I going to wear any more armor that day.

While Nada and Clyra went to give themselves a quick scrub, we set the pallets on the floor and pushed them together into a sort of rough, wooden sleeping platform about nine feet wide and ten feet tall, just enough room to squeeze seven bedrolls on top. As the two shivering Nords warmed themselves by the heat of the nearby brazier, Fulgor set about building a campfire and filling a pot with water. With a look from her, I loosed a quick burst of flames and set the cooking fire alight. The Orc woman started cutting vegetables and strips of dried meat into the pot and soon, we had simple stewing bubbling away.

With Alena and Classi drying themselves by the fire, a bunch of bottles of Nord Mead came out and I remembered the woman sleeping by the other waterfall. Circling around the back of the Word Wall, I climbed up to where Bitchy, though I was less than willing to call her that even in my mind, slept, nestled in a small crook of the earthen wall nearly slumped over the hidden chest I'd forgotten was there.

It was the first time I'd gotten a real look at her face and while no supermodel, her heart-shaped face and plump pink lips framed by shaggy brown hair gave her a rough, charming quality. Her cheek twitched as I reached out to poke her awake, her brown eyes fluttering as she woke up. "Hey…" I paused in thought. "What's your name?"

She peered up at me blearily. "You forgot?" She muttered, scrubbing her face with the back of her hand. "Kjota. Remember it this time, loud bastard."

I scratched my cheek sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

The flat look she gave me could flattened me if it had any physical force behind it. "No you're not," Kjota said bluntly.

"Well, I'm not sorry for the fucking, I kinda needed it," I clarified with a nod, "I'm just sorry it bothered you."

"Whatever," she grumbled, sniffing. "Food?"

"It's cooking, but you need to clean yourself up, first," we glanced at the white water splashing down onto the rocks nearby and she involuntarily shivered. "Everybody else has done it."

She sighed and with my help, stood up, shedding her fur blanket. "You're gonna help me," she half-way threatened, though the resignation in her tone and the wobble of her legs kinda killed it. Carefully sticking a hand out, she hissed as it touched the water.

"My advice is to just jump in," I offered, winking as she glared at me. Sucking her teeth, Kjota pulled her armor off, steeled herself and hopped under the waterfall.

The squeal that escaped her lungs echoed through the cavern, and I couldn't help but laugh. "You can't wear clothes in the water, you'll get pneumonia!" I chided with a chuckle as she clutched herself, shivering.

"I-I-I kn-know w-wh-what the c-c-cold does, a-a-asshole!" She stuttered, carefully peeling her bra away and stepping out of her undies, handing both sets to me. Her hand locked around my wrist and she made to pull me in, but made the mistake of standing on cold, water-drenched rocks while trying to do so.

Kjota nearly slipped and fell, had I not quickly reached in, grabbing her by the shoulder and keeping her standing. "But seriously, wash quickly," I said, helpfully carding my fingers through her hair. She gave me a 'no shit' look and set about scrubbing herself down and I, helpfully, scraped the grime from her back as she took her front.

She was done quickly, stepping out of the waterfall and shaking herself like a dog, splashing me with ice-cold water entirely on accident, I'm sure. Wrapping her in fur, putting her armor in my inventory and carrying her undergarments, I partially carried her down to the fire and set her down to dry. The other ladies were enjoying bowls of stew with chunks of bread and warmed mead to wash it down, all but the lightest armor and weapons set aside in favor of food and enjoyment.

Pushing a bowl in Kjota's hands before taking myself, I sat by the fire and took in the atmosphere while I ate. The woman huddling against my side, the heat of the fire playing on my face and the warmth of decent food filling my insides as the ladies chatted, Fulgor and Nada comparing their brand new scars while Alena and Classi talked of bows and strings and Clyra leaned back on her elbow, visibly enjoying the bottle of mead she was slowly emptying. This was a true party.

Yes, they might not have been friends or known each other at all a few days ago, and probably would've killed each other on sight. But now, with a few Touches and the order to trust me, follow my orders but keep their independence later, we'd cleared a Barrow, won a battle against a larger force and mostly survived.

How divided they would've been without me. How divided _Skyrim_ was. I had the power to fix it, to end the Civil War. It wouldn't be easy, oh no, it'd be an uphill slog the entire way, my first few days alone proved that…but the comradery around that fire, three Nords, an Orc, an Imperial, a Bosmer and myself, enjoying each other's company…it proved to me that it could be done, that unity wasn't impossible…if I was willing to use a power many would call evil.

My thoughts were interrupted as Alena yawned hard, knocking over an empty bottle of mead with a clatter. "Gods, I'm tired," she announced somewhat unnecessarily, smacking her lips before her eyes focused on me. "What's the plan for tomorrow?"

Well, I had to return the Golden Claw and get my reward, but I also wanted to circle around the mountains to the plains of Whiterun, where a certain cave hiding a certain sword awaited. But if the fight against the Guardian had proven anything, it was that the size of my party, nice as it was to have so many people watching my back, was a detriment in smaller spaces. I had a rough idea of what I wanted to do and how to do it, but I didn't want to think of it anymore, not with the fatigue creeping into my bones.

"I'd rather leave that for tomorrow," I replied, rubbing my eyes. "Right now, I'd rather stop thinking."

"Same," Fulgor nodded, knocking the logs of the fire apart with an iron sword. "It's sleep time."

We went about tamping the braziers and cleaning up after dinner, the fire dying down to glowing embers as the light of the moon poured in through the ceiling. My bedroll was between two others, with the Orc woman taking the roll behind me while Clyra took the one in front. Already, the warmth of the fur sleeping bag and the bodies nearby were already lulling me to sleep, but some muffled grunting and curses kept me up.

"Ow! Quit it!"

"Watch the face!"

"Keep your foot away from my nose!"

"Fuck it!" Kjota sat up quickly, shimmying out her bedroll and her spot near my head. Her shadow blotted out the moonlight as she knelt over my head, her face barely visible even as I felt her breath wash over my cheek. "Scoot over."

I barely managed a confused, "Huh?" before she'd shoved her legs into my roll, squeezing herself inside the confines with me until the bedroll had become more of a cocoon. "What're you doing?"

"Getting comfortable," she grumped in my ear, pulling her empty roll under our heads for extra cushion. "Wait, roll on your side." I shifted carefully and she moved so that she her back was lying on the pallet and the only comfortable space left had me lying half on top of her, my arm around her waist and my chin resting on her shoulder.

It was very intimate, but very comfortable. I lifted a leg and entwined it with hers, my fingertips casually brushing the skin of her hip. "Did you do it like this so that we could cuddle?" I whispered to her.

In reply, she pinched the tip of my ear and growled low in her throat but, tellingly, didn't say 'no.' I nuzzled her jaw with the tip of my nose and tenderly kissed a pulse point on her neck. "Night, Kjota."

"Good night…Saulus," she murmured in reply, her hand sliding down my back to rest between my shoulder blades. Soon enough, her breathing evened out and she'd fallen asleep, and I was soon to follow.

But I took a few minutes and burned the moment into my mind. A party of new friends, sleeping comfortably in a pile, completely trusting the others. Because of me. Because of my Touch. I wanted to hold onto this result, this success and warmth and crystalize it as a vision of happiness for the future.

I would see this vision spread. I would see this happiness and trust become paramount.

It doesn't matter what I'd have to do to make it happen.

Nothing is sacred. Everything is permitted.

No matter the cost.

…

…

…

…

 **A/N: Kjota is a slight change to the word kjøter, which if google translate hasn't lied to me, means 'bitch.'**

 **That's right everyone, I'm back at it again with what has to be the biggest, longest chapter I've ever written, bar none. The reason for this is several-fold, but the important parts are: I've been chipping away at this for a long time and I wanted a huge ol' chapter to herald my return, and I may have slightly gotten carried away** _ ***cough***_ _no shit_ _***cough***_. **I figured, fourteen thousand words in, that I should just finish Bleak Falls Barrow and make it one big chapter and as you can see, it took longer than I expected.**

 **The second reason is in celebration. See, ever since the new year, there's been some serious shenaniganery at my** _ **fucking**_ **insurance and a certain medication that I won't name but desperately need to function like a normal human being (or what passes for one in my case) ended up being canceled for reasons I still don't understand. So for the past half a year or so, I've been without my meds and seriously slowed down. But, after several phone calls, doctor visits, blood draws and weeks of waiting as my** _ **fucking insurance fucked me again**_ **, I finally got my hands on my meds and I am now returning to fully functioning status!**

 **Hooray!**

 **Alright now that the excuses have been made, let's talk about this monster chapter, eh?**

 **Being the second chapter, this one introduces a lot of things, namely:**

 **This story, while humorous, is also dead serious in places, combat being one of them.**

 **Despite his knowledge, Skyrim is a murder-world and Saul is gonna have to fight every day to achieve his goals.**

 **Mooks, ones who don't get Touched (and yes that's what I'm using, shut up) will put up a fight, use tactics, i.e. generally act like people who've killed and are willing to kill again. Some might be easier, some a tad more difficult.**

 **He's a stealthy man with a stealthy build, but stealth isn't always an option.**

 **Boss fights are not slightly better mooks, boss fights are _BOSS FIGHTS._ They aren't Dark Souls-esque for the most part, but the big bad in charge is the big bad in charge for a damn good reason.**

 **His knowledge isn't iron-clad and random shit can and will be thrown in for both the lulz and the evilulz.**

 **His party members are _people_ , and they are just as vulnerable to physics and wounds like everyone else.**

 **A lot of the game systems are, in fact, cheating, but he'd be dead several times over without them.**

 **There's gonna be sex. A lot of it. Unlike some, I don't rate my story M and promise adults are gonna act like adults and then turn into some stupid harem anime bullshit nonsense. (Austin: Ha!)**

 **Saul is, above all else, pragmatic. Also a bastard, on occasion.**

 **If you've been around for a while and are familiar with my work, you may have noticed that the second scene containing actions of a sexual nature was on the more…dirtier side. That's because I'm experimenting with a bit of a shift in my writings of that nature, which I've termed 'erotica' and 'smut.'**

 **Erotica is more about an emotional connection and is gentle, personal, and loving i.e. the first scene.**

 **Smut is fucking.**

 **Erotic will be written in more prose-like terms, while smut will be written with less. Hopefully, this will create a bit more difference in how I write sex scenes. Gotta experiment and try new things, ya know. Stagnation kills and I'm practicing for NaNoWriMo.**

 **Big thanks to all my friends, NorthSouthGorem, Kitsi Katsue, Dairegh, and AJR3333 . Love you all bunches, and you should all check them out!**

 **Coming up next…I won't say. I don't want to spoil it.**

 **Stay Awesome.**

 **~Soleneus**

 **P.S.: If anyone wants to give me shit about the party member dying being the Redguard, it was Austin's idea. He convinced me to go with it and gave me his BLACK MAN'S SEAL OF APPROVAL (™) whatever that's worth to you.**

 **Honestly, I was gonna have Bitchy be the one to die, but I'm a sucker for the classics.**

 **Austin: Now all you need are Sex Dungeons! Yeeeaaahhhh!**

 **Stay Awesome Some More.**

 **~still Soleneus**


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